Destiny's Circle
by Aren-Kae
Summary: A Jedi tradition has left many to believe SkywalkerSolo descendants are gone for good. Join the journey of a lifetime with Evlyn, Devin, Jean, Jaing, and Vieux, as they struggle to survive a war in the making.
1. Prologue

**Prologue – 476ABY**

It's always been the same, decades after decades, months after months, centuries after centuries… And still, Vieux found no rest. Sleep would not come to him that night, for reasons unknown. He had learned to sleep in any condition, whether it be in a dark sewer, in a conduit panel just barely big enough for his body, or through a large hurricane on the mountains of Paleeda.

It was in his quarters that he could not sleep. He had slept in the same bed for over four-and-a-half centuries, falling asleep as peacefully as a small _yaleen_ on his home planet. Something, though, was keeping him from sleeping. Some strange feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him to stay awake.

So he sat on his bed, arms interlaced behind his head and his legs in a comfortable criss-cross shape, meditating in usual Kalanese manner. Ever since he was born, he had been in touch with the Force, letting it guide his mind and actions. He knew he had a path, and had decided to walk it. Vieux wasn't a small animal to be taunted with. In fact, Vieux was huge, a solid seven-foot monster, which made covert operations… difficult.

Stretching out through the Force, he could feel his fellow Council member approaching his room. The old man was uncharacteristically nervous, and Vieux knew this would be no regular assignment. What ever could make Old Macrin sweat like a nekk battle dog?

He would find out soon enough. Old Macrin stopped at his door and knocked three times. Before the second knock even came, though, Vieux was on his feet and at the door in half-a-second. He opened the abnormally large door and felt the gentle brush of Macrin's fist against his stomach as he continued his second and third knock. Upon realizing that the surface he was knocking against was not a carefully carved wooden door, and a hard reptilian ribcage, Vieux felt his embarrassment.

_[My apologies,_ Vieux said. _[I did not intend to startle you, Macrin._ Now standing in the dim light of the corridors instead of the complete darkness of his room, Vieux looked impressive. His scales, black as night, dully glistened in the nightlight. His long, pointed ears twitched in acknowledgment, while his purple eyes gazed down at the old man before him. What made Vieux scary was not his unfamiliar form, but the lack of mouth or a visible nose. A very accomplished telepath, he used this in every conversation he had, as did his own people on his homeworld.

"Ah, I apologize, Vieux," Macrin said in his clipped, Coruscanti accent. He sported a grey beard and wrinkles big enough to classify him as a decaying human. Even his skin was white, and the brown spots on his bald head and face stood out considerably. This hundred-year-old man looked tired. So, immensely tired… "May I come in, old chap? I've got a few things to discuss for your ears alone, if you will."

_[My quarters are always open to the Head Chief,_ Vieux replied. _[Please._ He gestured with one, long, muscular arm towards the darkness of his room. He found the light switch and turned it on, sending the room into a harsh purple light was very clear to Vieux's ultraviolet sight, though he could switch to normal and back in the blink of an eye. _[Would you prefer the regular light?_

"What? Oh no, thank you," Macrin said. He walked into the room by himself, using his cane for much-needed help. "Ah, that chair looks comfortable." He continued to move foreword.

He would have sat down there if Vieux had not chipped in and told him that was a cage containing his pet snake, a long, scary-looking python. Helping his long-time friend to a seat on his bed, Vieux took a chair next to him. With a flick of his mind, the door closed, leaving them in the harsh purple light. Macrin cleared his throat hesitantly. "I am dying," he said softly. "And before I go, I must impart this knowledge to you. Do you understand, Vieux?"

_[I understand,_ he replied. _[The circle of life continues as it is. I have known this day would happen for a long time. I am sorry you must depart, old friend._

"Yes, well…" Macrin cleared his throat once more. He didn't look Vieux in the eye, and stared out into space. "I knew I could count on you. You are my closest friend, and I trust nobody except you with this secret…"

"Tell me Vieux," Macrin paused to catch his breath, "do you know of Lorana and Jacoby? Yes, I thought so… Well. These two apprentices are linked in a way that you must understand. Their destinies are tied, twisted into a knot so fine even I can not read it."

_[They are two separate students, who have only set eyes on each other in classes. To the best of my knowledge, I know that they are not friends._

"But they don't hate each other. Vieux, listen… As a boy, were you ever told the story of Darth Krayt?"

_[Yes. He was a monster, and a former Jedi. A'Sharad Hett was his name. A boy of fine art and the heart of a vornskr. Raised by Tuskans, also. It added a creative touch._

"The boy was real, Vieux." Macrin sighed. "Now… on to the hard part. Do you know we have been sheltering the descendants of Cade Skywalker and Jade Solo?"


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One – 989ABY**

It was all movement, every last bit. Jedi katas strengthened the user's mind, heart, and body to almost impossible limits. When you did a kata, the Force was mandatory. It required spilt-second timing and accurate precision. It required the speed of a tiger and the strength of a lion. Most of all, it required the user to submerge themselves in the Force until they were _one_ with the Force, completely joined, melting in the vast sunlight that it was.

Jean had no trouble submerging herself in the Force. For as long as she could remember, she had always had Force talent. As one of the higher-ranking Padawans at the Ossus Academy, a rank she had earned herself, she had a responsibility. And that responsibility was to learn her hardest, practice her hardest, and sweat her hardest.

Her lightsaber pulsed in her hands as she blocked an imaginary blow, flowed to the next position, and attacked. Swing stomp throw! She was a blur of motion, doing it faster than recommended. But instead of the lazy punches most Padawans threw out, her's were fast and hard, her kicks strong enough to send a ronto flying, and her lightsaber making the precise marks in the air. All and all, she was a blur of orange light.

Sweat matted her auburn hair, which was pulled into a sloppy bun to keep loose strand out of the way. Her breathing came in short gasps, and her entire body felt warm. Still she did not slow down, intending to master this kata before the day was over.

Swing stomp throw!

She had trained at the Academy since she was a little girl. Raised by her loving Jedi parents, Jean quickly went above and beyond expectations, being graded solid A's in the first few weeks. Her naturally lithe body was slow to grow muscle, so she worked doubly hard as to not be the weakest in the Enclave. Her Master, Viuex, complemented her on this, saying she was training as a warrior should: _No break, no rest. Just the dance, sharpening your mind and body into a weapon your opponents will shatter against. _

Jean gritted her teeth and she jumped ten meters in the air and drifted down at her desired target, out of his point of view. She landed on top of her imaginary target and brought her lightsaber down with her, stabbing her foe in the chest.

Deactivating her weapon and putting it on her belt so smoothly a normal person would barely register it, she looked towards the right and ducked another imaginary punch, bringing her leg foreword and back fast, popping him in the joint of his knee. As he went down, Jean brought her hand up in a fist and popped him where his mouth should be.

She kept going.

She was tired, but she couldn't let this kata get the better of her yet. Though her face was red from exertion, her pale blue eyes were filled with determination. Each movement was as sharp and clear as water as she weaved in and out of attacks, delivering triple-punches to each opponent.

Each Jedi combat kata was made to strengthen a certain area of the user's ability by hard, hard work. Some katas would have you kneeling on the floor with object circling your head, striking at imaginary opponents or training droids, while others would have you do ridiculous other things . Some tested your balance and improved it. Some tested your Force Power. The one she was doing now, with the fast, powerful strikes and the weaving motion, plus the seemingly never-ending swarm of enemies was testing her own resolve, her will, and her speed.

She really wanted to do one of the Balance or Force katas right now. She was better at those than this one. She wasn't the fastest runner, and her will tended to make a downfall if things got to hard, which was usually never a problem. She enjoyed challenges, craved them… but she resolved to pass out before she stopped. Vieux was her new Master. She wanted to make him proud.

Coming down from another high jump, her foot accidentally went to the side and twisted. Bringing the injured foot up to snap her opponent's neck, she wavered and almost fell. She recovered quickly and snapped the neck, turned around to face the next opponent, and waited an extra second before attacking. Veiux's strong, telepathic voice rang through the air.

_[Do not hesitate,_ Vieux commanded sternly. _[You must allow yourself rest only when necessary. You will begin again._

Jean swallowed back a reply and bowed towards her instructor. She knew better than to ask for water. Though this training was helping her become a better warrior… she had a feeling Vieux was enjoying this. As the three other Padawans lined up against the wall. Evlyn, Jaing, and Devin were smirking, obviously amused at her misfortune.

Vieux would have none of it. _[While she does her form over again, we will in the meantime do one-hundred push-ups together as a team. Starting now._

Jean kept her amusement carefully hidden in the Force.

Swing stomp throw!

--

"He's practically killing us!"

"Are you kidding? He's the best Master here!"

"Jedi have pain-tolerance limits, too, y'know!"

"He's just trying to help out," Jean said. "Besides, he's never been our Master before. He's testing our limits."

Devin sucked up his spghetta noodles, chewed, and swallowed. "He pushed us all to the limit," he said. "That's a good thing." He looked Jaing in the eye. "At least now we know how far we can go."

"Besides," said Jean, "We'll need to know for the next mission. 'A good warrior knows his limits.'" Jaing and Evlyn became quiet. It was hardest on the two girls, but Jaing seemed to think they had all taken the brunt of it.

"I'm going to hurt in the morning," Evlyn said, massaging her shoulder. Her wispy white-blonde hair was drawn up in a high ponytail, and her face was still red with exertion, a side-effect of her asthma. "Remind me next time to stretch before going to training."

"Hey, I almost forgot," Devin said. "Jean, come with me. I need to show you something. Later, guys."

"Wait, what--?"

"Just come on." Devin took Jean's arm, and Jaing could feel her embarrassment through the Force.

"Be right back," Jean said, and they both left the chow hall.

Evlyn smiled knowingly at Jaing. "They like each other," she said.

"She was _blushing._"

"He'd wipe her nose for her if she'd let him."

"They're a good couple."

"Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"What do you think I'm thinking?"

"I'm thinking exactly that. Let's do it!"

"Video surveillance?"

"Don't have time. Pursuit of target?"

"Sounds good. Ladies first."

They waited. When nobody moved, Jaing repeated, "Ladies first."

"Yeah," Evlyn replied. "I'm waiting for you."


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The Ossus Academy's corridors were made up of a polished tan marble with built-in lights behind a thin sheet of the granite to create an illuminated feel. The lights had been there ever since Vieux had become a Senior Council Member. It added a tranquil feel to the academy, one Devin knew would stick in his mind forever. The lights burned and flickered like candles, only adding to the effect.

The light also illuminated Jean's skin as they walked. She was unusual, alright. The top layer of her hair was a dark red while the bottom was black, and it was always pulled up in a ponytail, though Devin liked it better when she spent some time on it and brushed all the knots out. Her thin, seventeen-year-old body was tall, and lanky, giving her plain tunic a slightly loose fit. Her lips, a cute color, gave her eyes a nice contrast with the rest of her body.

She was unusual, but Devin liked her that way.

Their worn-out travel boots made a soft _clap-clap_ on the tile floor, also illuminated. Since the hallways were narrow, they had to remain shoulder-to-shoulder to allow other initiates by. "So what do you want to show me?" Jean asked. She giggled. "Another baby felinx?"

"No, no," Devin assured her. Developing his stride into more of a prideful swagger, her place an arm around her shoulder. "This is something big," he said, making a motion with his hand. "Not an animal to play with. It's a place where you can do anything. A private place to practice katas, forms… maybe even chat with a friend."

Jean raised her eyebrows but did not look at him. "Oh really?" she asked.

"Yeah," Devin said, encouraged by her amused tone. "You'll love it. But once we reach the halfway mark," he gestured to the piece of cloth hanging around his belt, then to the earplugs in their protective casing, "I'm going to blindfold you and deafen you. You'll have to find your way there using the Force and only the Force. Understand?" He knew Jean couldn't resist a challenge. Instead of handing the place to her on a platter, he was giving her time to figure it out herself. He knew she would accept.

He wasn't mistaken. He watched the gears turn in her mind, and her eyes visibly lit up. "You're on," she said, giving him a grin. "But no surprise attacks, okay?"

He knew she was only saying that so he actually _would_ surprise her, but he wouldn't fall for it. "Yeah, yeah," he said. "Don't worry, Little Mouse." He gave her an affectionate noogie. She laughed and struggled half-heartidly to push him off. Her laughter was like a clear bell inside of him, and he was only encouraged to become more rough.

They laughed. When Devin finally released her, she leaned into him to catch her balance. "Do you practice that on Jaing?" Jean asked, laughing. "You're good. You actually messed up my hair." She pointed to her head, which was more messed up than before. Strands were poking out of the ponytail and clinging to her face.

Quickly brining it back behind her head, she made to wrap the rubbed back around it again before Devin stopped her. "Keep it down for a change," he said. "We're not fighting anybody here." She gave him a look and attempted to put it back up again. "Come on. Just for once?"

"Unless you have a hairbrush on you, you're out of luck," Jean said. "Looks worse when its' down. All frizzy and tangly—"

"That's only in your imagination," Devin said simply. And it was true. Her hair still looked freshly washed, and it hung down to the middle of her neck in small delicate waves. It looked _good._ "You look pretty with your hair down."

She cocked and eyebrow, but did not attempt to put the rubber band in again. Devin smiled.

--

Watching from a little ways behind them, concealed by a throng of Jedi initiates, Jaing and Evlyn watched Jean and Devin unknowingly flirt with each other. Jaing's black hair, pulled in a small Old Republic Jedi-era ponytail behind his head, thankfully did not catch their attention.

"It's a good thing they're busy thinking about mouth-to-mouth instead of us," Evlyn muttered. "Boy, we'd be in for it then."

Jaing nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. He flashed a grin at Evlyn. "Well, you know what Vieux says. 'Never—"

_(Intrude on another's privacy.)_

They were aware of something lifting them up by the scruff of their tunics. Jaing twisted up to look at his Master is surprise. "How did you get there?!"

_(I walked,)_ Vieux replied. _(Would you rather walk to my quarters like honorable Jedi of the Ossus Academy, or would you rather I carry you?)_

--

The halfway mark was at least a quarter-mile away from the Enclave. The air, which smelled largly of trees and pines, gave Devin a rejuvenated feeling. He stopped Jean with a grin. "Alright, close your eyes, and reach out to the Force."

Jean nodded. "Yessir," she said. Her eyes closed, and Devin took his makeshift blindfold off of his belt and stood behind her to tie it. "So what exactly should I be looking for?"

"You'll know it when you feel it," Devin said. "I'll put on the earplugs so you won't know which way I'm going. I'll send you a message on your comm when you can remove them. Then just wait, and figure out your way there. Don't take off the blindfold."

"What if that _harmless_ baby felinx attacks me?"

"Improvise," Devin said, and fit both yellow earplugs into her head.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The two were very polite about the whole thing, to Vieux's amazement. They had chosen to walk, naturally, and their faces showed no sign of embarrassment or fear. Through the Force, if probed deeply, he could tell that they were dreading his judgment. On the boy's mind was endless practice sessions like the one an hour ago, with him, Vieux, has the executioner. On the girl's mind was of a stern talking to and loss of respect from the entire Council. There was a resistance within them both, also. They were using their own powerful bond formed only through a lasting friendship to block him from their minds.

If he hadn't been six-hundred-something years old and _not _a Senior Member of the Jedi Council, they might have succeeded. Might. He made a mental note to himself to teach them more anti-probing tricks that would render any enemy invader helpless. Vieux quite clearly remembered one that included touching the enemy's nervous system, rendering them unconscious. It was a natural Kalanese form to go through, as touching another person's mind was highly illegal and would result in various forms of punishment and community service.

His sleek reptilian head was cocked to the side slightly in thought. He could make them do the traditional service and manually haul logs and other heavy objects fifteen miles, but he had since learned about human-tolerance levels, and was sure they would collapse if he used the traditional method. Therefore, he decided a human-strict level would be used. He could use Jaing's surface thoughts to his advantage and make them do their dreaded katas over and over again to find the one they needed most practice in, then make them do _that_ one over and over and over.

He was still thinking of an appropriate human punishment when they reached his living quarters, A noise deep in his throat, almost a hiss, startled the two Padawans since he had no mouth. He made this sound by flattening his air slits and opening a container in his nasal cavities and releasing a small drop of fluid to his unique airflow, igniting it and producing a small cloud of steam. Evlyn and Jaing were doubly terrified, and actually showed a trace of it on their faces.

Humans scared so easily.

He opened the door to his quarters and flicked on the purple infrared light. His room was much different than when Old Matric had told him of the great secret centuries ago. It was spacier, with an extra extension for him to plant his garden which contained various life-giving substances for Kalanese. It was very big and green, with hints of orange and purple plants and substances. Green vines encircled his room, giving him a jungle feel. His pet snake, Prars'mar'tinalyo, was probably feasting on the juices of the baby Akito fruits just blooming.

The Padawans didn't need to know about the snake yet. Humans found snakes terrifying creatures.

_(Sit,)_ Vieux commanded. Unsure of where to sit, the Padawans decided 'oh the hell with it' and took their places where they stood. Jaing accidentally sat on Evlyn's leg as he tried to adjust his eyes to the purple light, and shifted over, muttering a quick apology. _(Explain.)_

Jaing was the quickest to respond. He looked in Vieux's purple eyes, a hard thing to do, and told him: "Devin would wipe Jean's nose for her if he could," he said. "We both know they like each other, so we thought, y'know, why don't we check it out?"

_(You would use your knowledge as a bargaining chip,)_ Vieux supplied. _(Though you never thought of it. Knowledge is power. If Devin wanted to show you the secret place, he would have.)_

"But what if they start making out?" Evlyn asked. "If they start smooching, won't that take their mind off of their studies?"

The room went deathly silent. Vieux fixed his gaze on her again, staring at her so intently she looked away. _(That was not the reason for your crime,)_ he said coolly. _(Admit your mistake. Fix it.)_

"It was a private moment for them," Evlyn muttered. "We had no right to be invading their privacy, no matter how fun it was."

_(And are you sorry?)_

"Yes," they both said in unison.

Vieux surveyed them evenly, drumming a long, clawed finger against his leg in thought. He was missing some. Ah, yes. The loopholes. He had almost forgot. _(What are you sorry for?)_

"Do you want the complete truth, Master?" Jaing asked.

_(The complete truth always help, Padawan. Speak freely.)_

"Well, I'm sorry we got caught. I resolve on fixing it by keeping my senses attuned and focused. I am not sorry for _not_ spying on them. We were _pursuing _them. Stealthly." Jaing never dropped his debater's look, nor the feeling of defensiveness that had suddenly sprang. Viuex realized that his young charge had been imagining this conversation ever since they took off in 'foot pursuit' of their target. Again came the _ssiss-ing_ laughter that seemed to scare them both until they felt his gentle clap on the back.

_(You have learned,)_ he said. _(You looked beyond. Jaing Catto, you are a very fine spokesperson. I was not mad because you pursued them. I was irritated that you did not keep the presence of mind to try and locate me. Evlyn, I know you have various tracking skills. Why couldn't you find me?)_

"Because I wasn't paying attention," she muttered.

_(Yes,) _Vieux said_. (And you weren't paying attention to this, either.) _With a simple suggestion with his mind, his fifteen-foot python slid out of the improvised garden and crawled across both of their knees. Vieux felt their terror build into something resembling a living thing. Ironic. Vieux had not been truly scared since Old Matric revealed the terrible secret the Jedi had kept for years and years. But his terror was not the living thing. It had been a silent dread, knowing something would happen without knowing what, or when it would happen.

Still, he found the situation funny. The two Padawans had completely paled, mouth agape. Prars'mar'tinalyo hissed at them, and proceeded to slide over their robes with deliberate slowness. Everything was still except for Vieux and his pet. He kneeled and held out his arm, forming a fist. Prars'mar'tinalyo wrapped herself around Vieux's outstretched arm, forming a serpent bracelet.

_(You see what I mean by staying attuned to your surroundings,)_ Vieux said with deliberate flippancy. _(You may go, but remember_: _Prars'mar'tinalyo may turn up under your bed one night. If you find him before you go to bed, please contact me.)_ Vieux's eyes contained a knowing smile.

Evlyn and Jaing, at least, had enough self-decency to say a quick good-bye, bow, and leave without making a fool out of themselves. Vieux stroked the top of Prars'mar'tinalyo's head affectionately."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Jean's comlink vibrated, and she smiled to herself. She reached the calm part inside of her body, breathing in and out, focusing on harnessing the Force. She felt the familiar tingling in her finger as the power rose like a giant wave, cradling her into the bigger ones. She breathed out and in, slowly become part of the trees, the rock, the air…

While drowning within the Force, Jean often felt powerful enough to move an entire world. It was the Force's false promise of greater power that led others down the dark path. Jean had to get past that second stage and look at the whole picture, at the forest fires thousands of kilometers away, at the gentle scraping of eating utensils at the Enclave, or the wail of a baby far off in the distant town of Imbraani.

The Force was a circle, much like life and death. Once one began to understand the flows and concepts, one would create their own, meant to live or die as it would. Life and death was the natural extension of the Force, something that happened without word, or thought. It simply _is._ The Force was everything. While other scientists said things about electrons or particles, you have to wonder: what _did_ make the particles? And what made _that?_ It was a crazy thing a three-year-old would play, like the game of 'why?' Why are you going to work? To get money. Why? To feed you. Why? So you'll grow up healthy and strong. _Why why why why why!!! _

But in short, the Force was also the child's game of 'why.' There was always and explanation for everything, but the sole maker revolved around the Force, the mysterious energy field that held a terrible power. Many Jedi wondered how the Force _worked._ Jean never did. As she stood there, locked in the depths of deep meditation, an image of a tranquil, peaceful bear drifted across her mind. It perked up its' head and looked at her mind's eye with a steady gaze, full of trust, before lowering its' head to go back to sleep.

She toyed with the memory for a moment, letting the feeling of _trust_ and _happiness_ envelope her like a blanket. She let out a soft hiss of air, and imagined herself floating, floating, until all you could see of her was a speck in the baby blue sky.

She took off the blindfold, suddenly aware of what she was looking for, and where it was.

--

After a ten-minute hike through the woods with inhuman speed and grace, Jean noticed that the trees were getting a lot let dense, and the air smelled more damp and alive. She sniffed again, catching the whiff of pine cones and more moist air, which was accompanied by the sight of dew-covered grass about ten feet in front of her.

Apparently it had rained, but the trees had covered her up like her own personal umbrella.

Deciding she might as well get a physical view of what she was looking for, she wrapped her arms and legs around the nearest tree and started climbing, using the natural grooves in the tree for footholds and handholds, Jean made quick progress. About five minutes ago she had tied her auburn hair back up into a sloppy bun, but resolved to take it out when she knew Devin was near. She continued climbing, and reached the top effortlessly. Balancing on one of the thicker branches, she kneeled and looked around.

She couldn't have chosen a better spot. In the distance, she could see the Academy, and to her right, she saw a large body of crystal blue water. She gasped, amazed at the natural beauty of it. The lake sparkled, and a large side of a mountain could be seen. Another natural part of the mountain was the walkway that led up all the way around. She imagined jumping off of it and soaring to the bottom, then throwing her head back and listening to the waves.

Sure, it sounded girly, but it brought a strange sense of happiness to her heart. All her life she had lived by machines: building machines, ordering machines, destroying machines, repairing machines… For once, there were no flickering panels with various light-up buttons. Nothing here was fake or artificial.

It just _was._

And it was, she thought, the _perfect_ place to practice a kata or chat with a friend.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Jean jumped. Somehow, he had gotten behind her. She found her cheeks blushing, and noticed his did, also, though at a more profound degree. She covered it up and saved face with a giggle, pointing towards the water. "It's _great,_" she said. "How did you find this place?"

Devin just shrugged. "I brought a lunch," he said. "I set it up on the top of that cliff."

Jean elbowed him in the side. "Forethought! _Yes!_ Just wait until Master Vieux hears you planned this!"

"Vieux won't know _anything,_" Devin said. "It's just you… and me."

His face became softer, and Jean was aware of the subtle highlights on his skin and brown hair, of the curve of his eyebrows, of the color of his eyes, the most beautiful green eyes she had ever seen, flecked with amber, so gorgeous…

"Let's eat," she said tersely, breaking the silence. "Come on, I'm _starved._"

She jumped down the tree and beckoned to him. "Come on."

--

Somewhere in the Unknown Regions, maybe a lightyear or two away from the Galaxy Border, pirate captain Rogan Starks kneeled in front of a three-dimensional image of a large, cloaked figure. The creature's head did not allow a hood to cover it, but instead sported bright purple tattoos which glowed against his smooth, reptilian skin. The creature had no mouth, and only two slits for a nose. Even scarier than his marble black skin coloring was the way he talked, with a voice that seemed to echo in Rogan's head.

_(Is it ready?) _the figure asked impatiently. _(We grow tired of waiting. The Head Chief wishes to know if we should continue _without_ you.)_

"No, no, not at all," Rogan said confidently. "Don't worry. We have them placed behind the fuel lines, activated by a remote. It will be gone in the press of a button."

_(You should have given it to us while you set it. That way you and it would be out of the way.) _Rogan blanched. _(But still,)_ the figure continued, _(we need you. Make sure the target is securely inside before proceeding. Human impatience can be very… aggravating.)_

"Yes, yes," Rogan said, bowing. "I will. Well, uh… Good night."

The creature just stared at him before cutting the connection.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Night in the Enclave. Nothing more than a quiet silence. The lights behind the wall were turned to bare minimum, barely giving off a glow. The quiet was comforting to Jaing. From his research on the early Jedi, he knew they almost never got quiet. Maybe it was one of the reasons they left the Republic five-hundred years ago. Maybe the Jedi of old just _hated_ Coruscant. Maybe.

Jaing was up for two reasons: he was hungry; he couldn't sleep. Sleep would not come to him these days. For hours, he would lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, or the wall, or a piece of furniture. He had managed to finish just about every project his instructor gave to him, doodle on every scrap of paper, _and_ take three showers. And that was just in one night. This had been going on for weeks. Sometimes, he would pass into a light sleep that only made him more tired when he woke up.

So, in order to bypass his restless exterior, Jaing would go to the cafeteria and eat a fruit or something light. The work droids, who only shut down an hour to restore battery cells, always welcomed him graciously and asked if he would be bringing his friends with him, soon.

The word 'attitude bypass adjustment' rang through his head at the thought.

He had no trouble making his way down the halls and take a shortcut through the sparring room. He had used this way so many times lately, it had become a habit for him. He remembered coming this way once as a ten-year-old, scared by the dark shadows creeping up against the walls. His Master, Deca, had been ill with a stomach bug. In order to make him feel better every night, Jaing and Evlyn would take turns bringing his favorite meal or tea to his room early in the morning. After Deca had died during a solo mission, Jaing and Evlyn had been transferred to Brunaai's team, which included Jean and Devin.

Then Senior Council Member Vieux came into the picture. He had requested the four troublemakers for _his_ Master/Padawan team, and boy was Jaing scared then. He still was. Vieux was probably the meanest, scariest guy around. Sure, the guy knew what he was doing, but Jaing had a sneaking suspicion Vieux was trying to _kill _them. Jean and Devin liked him, but they were a bit crazy in Jaing's opinion. Evlyn, at least, shared his point of view on the matter.

The thought of their new Master made Jaing's hair on the back of his neck stand up. What was the guy anyway? All this pathetic crap about the 'usual work' and so and so. Even the way the guy _talked_ scared Jaing. The first time he had heard the words form in the back of his head, he was terrified. Vieux held strange and unknowable powers that even he probably didn't know. If Jaing had to do a report on something exciting, he would probably ask Vieux about one of his better missions… Or look up the legendary battle between Darth Caedus and Jaina Solo. He was sure it had been done before, though.

The door to the cafeteria was open, so Jaing stepped through. Rows upon rows of blue tables were in their usual places, and the room covered at least one-half of an acre. In the back was a kitchen the droids used to prepare the meals. There was a light behind the oval glass window.

Odd. The droids didn't need a light. Maybe one of the Jedi in the Enclave got the idea and got some food.

Jaing strode through the empty space in the middle, devoid of tables or chairs, and pushed open the door. "Hey, Six-Two, how's it—"

A callused hand covered his mouth. Instinctively, he bit down hard and brought his elbow back in a rib-crushing strike to the chest. He heard a hiss of breath escaping from his attacker's lungs, strangely familiar—"Idiot, stop! It's me!" It was barely above a whisper, but Jaing recognized the voice.

Jaing nodded, and Jean released him from her grasp, wiping her fingers on her tunic from where Jaing had bitten her. She held a finger, on a different hand, to her lips. _Quiet._ Jaing nodded in affermination. Jean's eyes were half-closed, concentrating—

The lights went out.

Jaing heard her gasp and realized she hadn't done that before he felt the brush of a sword against his exposed scalp. He twisted away, squinting in the darkness to see his opponent. He heard the _whoosh_ of the sword swinging, and ducked even though it wasn't aimed for him.

Jean gasped in surprised pain. The next thing Jaing heard was a low masculine grunt of agony, then a crash of pots and pans. Heading to where he believed the intruder was, he managed to land a good kick on something resembling a face, and felt the crunch of breaking bone through his bare foot.

He must have completely _crushed_ the man's nose.

Whoever it was cried out in pain. Something slammed into Jaing's chest, and he fell backward and into another unseen shelf… or was that the stove? Yes, by feeling around, he deduced it was the latter. He felt around for the switch, turned the thing on, and suddenly the whole room was in a reddish-purple light.

Their attacker, a middle-aged man with graying hair, was sporting a bloody, crushed nose and face, and lying on a shelving unit that carried boxes of dhuma fruit. He was clutching a sack of potatoes in one hand, almost certainly the thing he had hit Jaing with, and had a scared look about him. Jean was standing about three meters away. Her hair was wet and matted with something dark, and a trickle of blood spilled down her left cheek like tears. Her entire right sleeve had been cut open, revealing a very nasty-looking cut the man had given her. They were all breathing hard.

The man moved first. He got up with surprising speed and agility and ran towards the exit. Jaing and Jean followed close behind. Smiley, as Jaing was beginning to call him, hurdled over tables and threw chairs in their way. Jean ran up one table and jumped eleven feet in the air and came down gracefully in front of him. The man, unusually flexible, slid past Jean's outstretched arm and continued hopping up and down tables until he got within five tables between him and the exit.

Jaing, panting, ran as fast as his eighteen-year-old body would carry him. Opening himself up to the Force, he gestured at the man, and one of the bigger tables, reserved for Masters, kicked Smiley down sideways. Instead of falling spread-eagled on the floor, the man turned his descent into a roll by tucking in his right shoulder and coming up in a fighting stance.

Jaing caught up with Smiley and jumped foreword, tackling the man from the waist, bringing him down on the hard marble floor. He brought his arm back and started punching anything within his reach. Smiley in turn fought back. He managed to get on his knees with Jaing still holding him, and throw his head back. White fire burned Jaing's senses as both of their heads collided, but knew better than to loosen his grip. The man managed a half-turn and used his right fist as a battering ram, messing up Jaing's face as best he could, _forcing_ him to let him go.

Jaing leaned to the right, out of the man's way. He sacrificed his hold for a moment to bring his arm around in a powerful left-hook to the man's jaw.

They continued like that for a while, blind from the near-darkness. Jean was running towards them, and from the other side of them, Jaing heard the _snap-hiss_ of a lightsaber. Five _snap-hisses._

Rescue had come. Jaing let go and flipped backwards. Smiley, surrounded by five angry, sleep-deprived Jedi, spat in the nearest person's direction.

Bad idea.

The nearest person happened to be Jedi Knight Ahlan, one of the more maverick Jedi in the Enclave. His green blade flashed, and Smiley howled in pain. Ahlan's strong face and black hair were illuminated in the light of the lightsabers' glow. A quick glance showed that Evlyn was one of them. Her magenta blade hummed, matching the angry tone that was probably running through everyone's mind.

Two service droids wheeled out from behind Gatemaster Hann, and clutched Smiley's hand in a deathgrip with their human-like steel hands. Three Jedi marched with the droids towards the MedBay, while the other two, Evlyn and Brunaai, remained. Brunaai, their old Master, cast a look over the room and cursed. He grabbed Jaing's shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asked. He shook Jaing roughly. "Are you okay?"

"A few cuts and bruises," he replied.

"You, turn on the lights," Brunaai order Evlyn. As the pale marble lighting flickered on, Jaing could see Brunaai's worried, almost maniac expression. Looking around, he noticed how much damage they had caused: a table was split down the middle, blood was marked on the floors… The kitchen was probably in worse shape. A vibrodagger lay in the middle of the floor. Jean's shoulder was cut open, not very deep, but blood was trickling down her face in rivers, and her leggings were almost soaked in it. Jaing probably didn't look so good himself. Brunaai clicked his tongue twice at their appearance. "To the Master's quarters," he said crisply. "You! Go turn off the stove in the back. Wake the rest of the students. Code Grey."

Evlyn nodded. With a quick glance at Jaing, she took off. With the adrenaline finally wearing off, Jaing realized how sore he was. He needed to _sit down_…

Brunaai and Jean caught him as he fell. "Gently, gently," his old Master said. "Lean on me. It is not safe for you two to go into the MedBay. To the Master's quarters… yes, the Master's quarters…"

Brunaai continued talking to himself the rest of the way there.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Vieux met Brunaai, Jaing, and Jean outside of his quarters. Ushering them inside, Vieux closed the door. _(Put him there,)_ he said, gesturing to a blue mat he had lay out in front of his garden. Jaing's face was coated in blood and bruises. His eyes were half open, gazing at Vieux with a distant expression. Vieux assessed a minor concussion, then harshly ordered Jean and Brunaai to wait outside.

They did so with unease, and Vieux kneeled down beside the boy, using a damp cloth to wipe the blood from his skin, figuring out where the cuts had been made. Though a cut was not lethal, Vieux feared a blood clot that was would severely damage the boy. The concussion itself would make his work easier, with part of the human brain dazed and smothered with fog. It would be easy enough to heal, but the recovery time would take more time than he himself wanted to use.

He observed Jaing for ten more seconds before coming to a conclusion. He used the Force to bring one of his smaller plants over to him—a harbin'ger flower vine—and broke off one of the leaves, using the Force to keep it alive and strong, feeding it life. Since harbin'ger leaves died about two minutes after they were taken away from the source, it stored little midichlorians, but combined with his Healing Arts, it should be enough.

He lay the large leaf, about the size of his hand, on top of Jaing's head, shielding his entire face from view. Taking in a deep breath, Vieux reached out to the leaf and studied its bio structure. Particles separated in his mind as he searched deep for the healing agent within, hidden deep within the particle structure.

_Ah…_

Vieux had not done this in a long time—almost fifteen years—but he needed answers _now._ The leaf, he knew, would grow back and all would be whole again. A renewable resource. He found the object of his search between the nutrient particles and concentrated on them, encouraging them to migrate outside of the leaf and into the open wounds. A small, bluish-white glow emanated from his claws as he continued to encourage the midichlorians to enter the wounds and repair the damage from the inside.

With a type of control that would rival the Jedi Master of old, Luke Skywalker, Vieux mixed together the midichlorians with the brain cells, urging the damaged parts to again become responsive. They activated once more at his thoughts, and started to repair the damage at four times the rate of a normal Healing Process.

In just four more minutes, it was done. The leaf was unintelligible from its' previous, whole green state. It was brown and shriveled up, absolutely devoid of life. Even the bacteria would find no food substance from this. Taking it off of Jaing's face and throwing it in the trash, Vieux watched Jaing's gaze once again become responsive, and color fade back into the boy's cheeks.

_(What came first? The Krayt Dragon or the pearl?)_

Jaing's face twisted up in a frown. "The dragon, right?"

Vieux closed his eyes and shook his head. _(You are healed,)_ he said. His tectonic voice grew more powerful as he expanded his orders to the two outside of his room. _(You may return. I have fixed him.)_

The door opened. Jean gaped at Jaing's face in shock, amazed at the lack of bruises or blood. "How did you _do_ that?"

_(You are next,)_ Vieux said softly. _(Padawan, get up and take a chair. Come here, Redfire.)_ He called her by the name he had given her a long time ago. _Redfire_ was a word derived from the Kalanese language. Though never studied by others, the Kalanese language was very to-the-point and harsh. _Redfire _was a goddess of fighting, determination, and healing. Jean never asked why he called her this. Perhaps it was because she thought he was crazy. When nobody asked him, Vieux never told, unless it was important.

Jean stood in front of the kneeling Master and let him inspect her. Her arm had been sliced open, but it was an artificial wound and would heal quickly. Her hair was matted in thick, dark blood, but that was not the worst. Her leg had been pierced with at least half of the knife blade. Vieux was amazed she was still walking. She appeared not to feel any pain.

He folded up her pant leg all the way up to her hip and observed the wound. It was a nasty, clean two-inch vertical cut. It was bleeding profusely, and already her entire leg was slick with the red substance. He cleaned her leg off with a relatively spotless rag and used his Healing Arts to form a blood clot to stop the bleeding: he detected no infections.

_(Go directly to the MedBay after we talk,) _he said in his calm, tectonic voice. _(If they try to keep you out, tell them I have sent you.)_

Brunaai sat crosslegged on the floor next to the mat Vieux had lay out, and pulled a piece of slava from his pouch. In response to the looks from his fellow Jedi, he shrugged. "Nervous habit," he said in his quick voice of his. "So, let's hear the story. How did he get in?"

Jaing shrugged and looked at Jean. "I couldn't sleep," she confessed. "So I was just sitting at my desk, finishing up some assignments for Master Xanni. I saw a shadow move under my door, and went to check it out."

_(All of the doors at the Enclave have no space between one room or the other,) _Vieux said. _(It is a ceiling-to-floor design implemented with heavy starship armor. You can see no shadows.)_

Jean shook her head, her face twisted up in a frown. "No," she said. "I saw a shadow. I know it's impossible, Masters, but I could see his silhouette from inside the room. I was under the impression the lights had been cranked up to full power."

"The lights are not bright," Brunaai corrected quickly. "They're not like the regulars!"

"I _saw_ him," Jean said sharply. "I didn't like the look of him and—"

"How can you see him if the lights are turned down low??" Brunaai exclaimed.

_(Silence,) _Vieux said calmly. _(Redfire, you were open to the Force, then. Nothing is impossible with the Force. You felt his bad intentions, and the subconscious part of your mind allowed a mirage of the real thing. The Enclave is a place of bright light and power. It would have been fairly easy to pick out a smudge such as he.)_

Jean stared at Vieux, uncomprehending. "I can use the Force without even realizing it?" she asked, awed.

_(Everybody can,)_ Vieux said. _(Once you start disciplined training, the subconscious part of your mind falls in with the natural rhythms of the Enclave's life. You begin to form a wall around the undisciplined part of your subconscious, a form of muscle memory. You discovered how to call upon the Force at will since you were younger. That undisciplined part of your mind is always there, more like a warning bell than anything. That is our Jedi Danger Sense. Some describe the danger sense as a hot feeling in their throats or prickling on the back of their neck. You, young lady, are blessed with Battle Precognition, another form of the danger sense. That means, Redfire, that your danger sense can be anything from mirages to a flash of what will happen before it happens.)_

Jean smiled sheepishly, and Vieux noticed that her cheeks were turning a shade darker. "Wow, that's cool," she said. "Works, too." She giggled slightly before continuing. "I decided I wanted to follow him, so I got out of my room as quietly as possible and followed him. He never knew I was there."

_(Why did you not take your lightsaber?)_

"I wasn't thinking," Jean confessed. "As soon as we reached the cafetaria, I remembered. But I couldn't go back until I called it it."

"Which you should have," said Brunaai. "You should have left the Masters to deal with it."

"You're right," said Jean sarcastically. "Maybe I should have left the Masters in charge when that flutterwing flew into the air ducts, setting off all sorts of alarms. You guys were running back and forth trying to figure it out until I had enough sense to draw the bird out of the air duct. Remember this? 'You can't make an intruder come out with a piece of meat, Jean! He's not an animal!'"

"That was only once. What you should have done was—"

_(Enough,)_ said Viex. _(Continue your story.)_

"As soon as we reached the cafeteria, he entered the kitchen, shooing the service droids out—"

"—once he did that, they found me on my rounds and informed me of the intruder," said Brunaai, cutting her off. "I called the others—Ahlan, Joran, Hann, Evlyn, and Xeria—and we informed them. We quickly decided to let Xeria and Joran do a quick check of the security cameras, and they commed back to tell us that there were loud noises coming from the kitchen."

"I followed the guy into the kitchen," Jean continued, "and hid behind a corner. I watched him: he was messing around with the main power generator, like he was looking for something. Then Jaing comes in, stomping around like the loudest kid in the Galaxy, and I managed to get him quiet."

"Yeah, and as soon as it happened the lights went out," Jaing said. "I guess the guy heard me. He swung at me, I ducked, and he cut Jean instead." He managed a grimace. "Sorry, Jean," he said sheepishly.

Jean snorted. "He didn't miss you," she said. "You happened to be in the way. He never even saw you. He came my way. I didn't know what was going on, but I remember getting cut by the vibrodagger. He took my head and slammed me into a stack of clean dishes. Then you tackled him and he hit you with a sack of potatoes." A smile made its' way to her lips, but stopped at Vieux's glare. "I guess you turned on the stove or something, because I could see him."

"He started running," Jaing said. "We went out into the main food hall and tried to stop him from getting away. I threw a table at him and tackled him to the floor. He turned around and started hitting me in the face." Jaing grimaced. "Things after that are… hazy."

Vieux took all of this in with a silent nod. _(Nobody has entered the Enclave unwanted since the Second Corellian Insurrection,)_ he said thoughtfully. _(We have various alarms and traps set up for that, ones that cannot be bypassed without the codes.)_

"Well then he must've gotten the codes," Jean said.

"Or avoided everything," Jaing said dryly.

Vieux was silent for a moment, then stood. _(Come. Let us meet this man and ask him personally how he managed to defeat two Padawans and bypass the alarms.)_

Vieux felt Jaing and Jean's sudden flare of anger. "He didn't defeat us," Jean said. "It was a stalemate."

_(Eloquently put, Redfire.) _He was sure even Jaing could feel his amusement ripple through the Force. Jean scowled.

--

Evlyn's hands were shaking. She had already woken up the Wampas—a crèche group consisting of Padawans 12 through 18—and explained the situation as best she knew of it. The Wampas formed groups of two or three and went patrolling the multi-level Enclave. She sent two groups to patrol the Bear Clan dorms, which contained the youngest pupils at the Enclave. She spread out the other patrols in random directions, making sure that they all covered each area.

Evlyn and Devin would take the halls consisting of the cafeteria, MedBay, and the Masters' Dormitories. Twelve-year-old Auron, a tall, blonde girl, tapped her shoulder. "Can I join your group?" she asked. "Nobody else will take me."

Evlyn nodded, distracted. The girl stood next to her in silence as Evlyn went over a last-minute check to make sure they all had comlinks and lightsabers. Then, almost as an afterthought, she fetched Jaing and Jean's lightsabers from their rooms. Tucking them securely in her belt, she motioned for Auron and Devin to follow her.

"Now run through this again," Devin said in a low voice. "What happened?"

"All I know is someone got inside the Enclave," Evlyn replied. "Jean and Jaing must have found him. We got to them before they were seriously hurt."

"He's that good?" asked Devin, dumbstruck.

"He beat Jaing's face into a pulp," she said in a tight whisper. Her eyes swam with tears. "I didn't think anyone could do that to him."

"Apparently. What about Jean?"

"I wasn't looking."

"Are they going to be okay?" Auron asked. "I mean, how can this dude seriously hurt 'em, right? Didn't _he_ have any blood on him?"

Evlyn concentrated, trying to remember. "Yeah," she said. "Think so."

"Well there you go, then," Auron said. "I bet he's going to hurt after the sedative wears off."

"How do you know he's on a sedative?"

"I worked with the Healers once," Auron explained. "I remember asking, 'Hey, what happens if we have to take in a guy who would rather punch our faces in instead?' They told me they sedate them and put them in a special room wearing a straightjacket if they're not _too_ hurt."

"I sense some of Healer Bonnie's sarcasm in there," Evlyn said. The halls were not lit yet, so they resolved to stumbling through the darkness. Devin was silent, and a more distant part of her thought he must have been worrying about Jean. She felt a pang of jealousy. Boys never cared about _her._ Sure, Jaing would have, but he was her friend, and so was Devin. But never had a boy cared for her like she had seen with many Jedi couples wandering the Enclave. Her thoughts were tinged with a sense of dry humor.

"You said they caught the guy in the cafeteria, right?" Auron asked after a long moment of silence.

Evlyn nodded. Then, realizing Auron probably couldn't see, she said, "Yes."

"What was he doing there, you think? Let's check it out before we keep doing our rounds. I don't think the guy wanted to make an omlette."

Evlyn cracked a smile—or a grimace. "Yeah," she said. "Dev, do you want to keep going, or search the place?"

"I want to get to the MedBay and mess up _his _face," Devin growled.

"Hey," Evlyn said sharply. "Snap out of it. It's a yes or no question." They continued walking, and with no answer, Evlyn stiffened her back and said, "It anonymous."

Even without reaching fully into the Force, she felt Devin's sinister anger. Directed at her… she didn't know. "Come on," Auron said urgently after a few minutes of wandering aimlessly through the darkened halls. "Door's right here."

"How can you even see in this dark?" Devin asked.

"Maybe I'm actually trying to help others instead of thinking about rearranging another's _face._" The air was thick with tension. Auron blew out a breath. "You aren't listening, are you? So some idiot snuck into the Enclave: it's not the end of the world. Now I suggest you hop your sorry behind into the cafeteria and look the place over _with_ us, or you can go to Vieux and explain exactly why you're so angry. It's your call, y'know."

"No wonder nobody wanted you on their team," Evlyn muttered. "You actually make them work. It's a hard trait to come by."

Auron didn't answer. She opened up the door and flicked on the overhead. The cafeteria was flooded with bright, intense light. It was the only part of the Enclave that hadn't changed when Vieux had been made Grand Master. They had never figured out why.

While their eyes adjusted, Auron gasped. They soon saw what had taken her breath away: the vibrodagger, the broken tables, the puddles of blood… It looked like a scene from a horror movie. Devin whistled low. "Looks like a tornado whipped through here."

"Yes, but look from where it's starting from," Evlyn whispered. She pointed at the kitchen door a ways away, surprised to find a service droid scrubbing off a blood mark.

"So they started in the kitchen," Devin muttered. "Then they came out _here…_ It's a mess out here. What about in there?"

Auron was ahead of them, already halfway there. The girl radiated excitement so strongly that Evlyn felt a twinge of amusement pass through her mind. Auron disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared moments later, sticking her head out of the door. "It's a total _wreck!"_ she said. "Blood and broken dishes _everywhere._ Four shelves are crushed—_steel_ shelves."

"Hold on, we're coming," said Devin. He picked his way through the broken tables and peeked through the door with Evlyn behind him. The kitchen indeed was a total wreck. It matched Devin's description of a tornado exactly.

"Hey, what's that?" Evlyn asked. She swung around Devin and peeked at the open power generator box at the other end of the room. Crossing over to it, she examined it. "Which one of you two is best at this stuff?"

"I learned a bit from Jean," Devin said, peering over her shoulder. He fingered two disconnected wires and frowned. "Looks like we've got some sabotage going on here… Oh, now what is _this_ baby doing there?" He pointed to a small device just barely seen from behind the generator. "Here, help me get this out."

He and Evlyn lifted up the two-hundred pound massive generator to the ground so Devin could get a better look. A small, black device with a blinking red light flashed from it's position behind one of the reserve tanks. Devin's eyes widened. "He was going to blow us up!"

"What?"

"No way!"

"Yeah, look! This little antenna here's connects to a remote somewhere. If he gave the okay, whoever has the remote would blow us to dust." Devin shook his head. "Is that guy human? Or do we have some cultural tribe that hates our guts?"

"Human," Evlyn replied. "Is it safe to remove the bomb?"

"I don't know," Devin said honestly. "We'll need a mechanic's opinion. Are you sure you don't know where Jean is?"

"Wait, wait… Master Brunaai said something about Vieux's quarters." Vieux's quarters were in the Masters' Dorms, which was only a little ways away from their current location. "Auron, can you go get them? We'll stay here and try to deactivate it."

The girl nodded, and she took off at an amazing speed, moving her hips this way and that to avoid debris. Then she was gone.

"I can't believe it," said Devin, staring at the bomb.

"I know." An odd feeling settled at the pit of Evlyn's stomach.


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Medical Technician Bonnie White wiped her hands on a towel and turned to the man Ahlon, Hann, and Xanni were dragging in. His face was covered with sweat and blood, and his nose was oddly misshapen. Having got the call minutes ago, Bonnie had already set up the man's special room and readied the injections she planned to give him. Somebody had tied his mouth shut in a gag, and fit a blindfold over him: Bonnie suspected they had to hold the man down just to do it, for he was still struggling, making animal noises and grunts muffled by the gag. "Room 8-1 with do," she said stiffly, gesturing down the long, white hall. "Don't forget to lock the door behind you _before_ you take off the blindfold."

Xanni nodded. His bright, mischievous face was sheened with sweat. "Quiet!" he snapped, kicking their intruder in the back of the knee. The man crumpled foreword from the near-perfect blow, saved only by Xanni's tug on his hair.

"Hey!" Bonnie said. "No! Don't do that! You can kick him when he's released. Now, _march!_"

Gesturing madly to the direction of the corridor, she returned to collecting all of her sedatives and truth serum. "Five-Oh, grab the rags and let's go."

"As you wish, madam." The silver-plated protocol droid lifted the clean stack of rags off of the counter and followed behind the old woman as she turned and headed towards 8-1. The halls, a brilliant, bright white trimmed with black, seemed to go on forever. Viuex had insisted on one hundred medical bays for Force-knows-what, and it drove Bonnie insane, having to cart around her supplies room-to-room. She had placed the man in the 8th wing, near the center of the medical complex, where the most confusing set of halls were. Though old and wrinkly, Bonnie never stopped fussing over her patients, and had let Viuex know how time wasting it was to have all this empty space. He, of course, paid no mind.

Bonnie huffed and made sure the blue box containing the supplies was securely in her hands before setting out. Some old woman _she_ was. She had twice the amount of white hair one could expect in a normal human, and had piercing grey eyes that left room for no debate. Her mind was quick and sharp, and her large glasses did enough to keep this fact in the air between her and the patient. She was too _old_ to go on missions, the Council had told her. They had sent her to the Med Unit to stay out of trouble. Padawans hated her. Knights treated her like a fragile piece of glass. It was sickening. Though, of course, everyone knew never to upset Bonnie White, or your next visit to the clinic would be unpleasant.

5-O stopped her from continuing down the hall. "The 8th wing it to your right, madam," he said in his artificial, nerve-scrapping monotone of a voice. "And if I may suggest, I think your memory units need a tuning up."

"Droids don't _think_," Bonnie muttered. "If you're so smart, lead the way."

"Certainly, madam. I will lead." 5-O's silver plating made her eyes hurt as they passed one of the overheads.

5-O continued down the hall at a quick pace. Bonnie scowled and set off after the droid. Too much stress was bad for an old woman's heart, they had told her. Well, she'd show them who the old people were. She was just as young as when she was twenty! Others said she was mad. That was true, Bonnie _was_ mad. Always caught talking to herself, especially after her husband died. Her boy, Brunaai, had taken her up on her talk-out-loud habits.

The door to 8-1 was not numbered, and Bonnie had to recall from memory which one it actually was. The complex of halls were confusing, and she resolved to have another talk with Vieux. Grumbling, she slammed open the door and locked it behind her, something the others had not done. The man lay on the bed in the center of the room, strapped down by super-tight restraints, which must have been cutting off his blood circulation.

"Release him!" Bonnie cried out. "Do you want me to treat swollen limbs, too?!"

"It's okay," Ahlan said from his little private corner. "The guy's a Sorusan. They're able to compress their bones to fit through small spaces. That's why he looks like a squashed tomato."

Bonnie looked back at the haggard man and saw that he indeed looked as thought he had been smashed flat. Pursing her lips, she deftly removed his gag and blindfold. He squinted in the bright light, involuntarily trying to bring a hand up to shield his eyes. Bonnie started fussing over him, dabbing the blood off of his face rather hard, ignoring the grunts of pain from where she touched his crushed nose. His entire face was swollen, and he had at least eighteen small cuts from all over his body.

Taking a pain-killer out of her light blue box, she injected it into his shoulder. "Now," she said, "do I have to sedate you, or will you corporate?"

"Try me," he sneered.

"Gladly," Bonnie replied dryly. Turning around to take the truth serum out, she noticed that all three Jedi were watching her. "What?" They looked away. "What??!"

"Nothing," Xanni said. "Go on."

"You're right," Bonnie said. "Go on, get out! Shoo! Go investigate the Mystery of the Missing Sandwiches or something. You're clogging up breathing space."

"But—"

"_Now."_ She left no room for argument. The trio of Jedi sullenly marched out, and she rolled her eyes. Reaching for the truth serum and held it before the man's eyes. "Do you know what this is?" He grunted in acknowledgement. "Do you know the sideffects? No? Good. I suppose you like surprises. Now, either tell me what I want to know, or this will circulate around your bloodstream and _force_ you to tell me."

"I'm immune to that stuff anyway," he grunted. "Go ahead."

"You're only immune if you have enough willpower," Bonnie stated. "I, on the other hand, have the Force. This will only help _me_ out."

"Do it, then."

Bonnie shrugged. "You're funeral," she muttered. She injected the fluid into his bloodstream and placed a hand on his temple, taking care to stay towards the side where he couldn't spit at her and break her concentration. Taking a deep breath, she entered the deep calm of the Force. All of her troubles melted away, and it was only her and this man, floating in a cloud of dust.

"What is your name?" she muttered.

His brain sent out waves telling him _not_ to tell her, but she quickly dampened them, sending soothing thoughts into his mind. _It's okay to tell me… Isn't it something you want to get off of your chest? Aren't you bursting with excitement?_ Planting these feelings into his thought pattern made it easier than expected.

He opened his mouth and made a low, groaning sound. "My name… Ghez…"

"Good…" she cooed. She started rubbing his forehead like she would to a child. "Who sent you?"

"The BlackHawks… Their captain needed me to… perform a job…"

"Who is their captain?" Bonnie whispered. She leaned in close to his ear. "He smelled like death, didn't he? Cold, and wild… You knew there was something wrong with him, but it was credits. You needed those credits for your baby, is that right?" Tears swam in his eyes. She was getting through. She pressed harder, drawing the memories from his mind. "Your baby is sick, and you're afraid… Your wife passed away, and you were broke… He found you, coaxed you into performing this one job… you couldn't refuse…"

She frowned. The memories after that were shrouded with darkness and fog. She tried to penetrate, digging deeper and deeper. She cried out in pain as an unseen force slammed into her consciousness. Her hand disconnected from Ghez's head, and to her own. She found herself falling against the wall, breathing hard. Wimpering. She cried out again as another block of pain hit her, and struggled to disconnect her mind from Ghez's… but she wasn't in his mind anymore.

_(You have touched my mind, human… Why? Is that you, Rogan?)_

"Yes!" she cried out. "Yes!"

_(No… you are not Rogan Strife… Ah aha… Jedi Knight. I despise your kind.)_

"Why?" she sobbed. "Why did you send him? Let me go!"

_(No, not yet. Tell me what you pulled from the whelp's mind.) _She didn't answer. She _couldn't_ answer. The tears ran in rivers down her wrinkled cheeks. She was half-aware of a distant voice crying out for help.

_(TELL ME!!!!)_

"NO!"

_(You dare invoke my wrath??!! Shame upon shame! The disgrace of humans is far greater than I have realized! You will pay!)_

Bonnie knew she was going to die. She was aware of somebody calling her name. She opened her eyes, trying to see through the haze of pain. Xanni's pale face could be seen just beyond the fog, calling for her to _wake up._ She reached out a hand and touched his head. "Rogan Strife…" she said throatily. "Find him."

And in one more, sharp pain, Bonnie's eyes glazed over. She looked past Xanni, and to the still form of Ghez, who was desperately trying to turn his head in her direction. "I am sorry…" she whispered, "for Andrea…"

She continued to look at Ghex as she slowly, ever so slowly, sunk into oblivion.

--

On the other side of the Galaxy, and large, reptilian male with purple eyes stared into space, and smiled.


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

At 0330, the Council Members met at their room in the highest tower on the left side. Since the new Enclave—a very big Enclave, I might add—was carved into the large mountain wall, they had a perfect view of the ground below them. A large yellow glass dome protected them from the elements, and produced a golden light seemingly out of its' own accord. The dome connected to the mountain wall, nearly blending in with their surroundings. The walls and floors, like every room besides the cafeteria, was a pale pink marble imbedded with soft glow lights. Their Council seats, solid, rock-hard chairs, were nothing special.

Vieux counted the Council Members around him, and nodded his head slowly. The Masters, left-to-right, were as followed: Vieux, Gatemaster Hann, Jemayah, Lu Ten, and Sanji Taban. Xanni was still in the Medical Bay, and had already transmitted his latest news to the Grandmaster via comlink. Vieux interlocked his claws together and bowed his head in reverence to the hard-working men and women beside him. _(Something terrible has happened…)_ His telepathic voice, usually no more than a whisper in their brains, was as loud and as low as a steam engine. _(A mercenary, controlled by a greater evil, has infiltrated our place of learning and nearly killed our two Padawans, Jaing Ghetto and Jean Anek. Padawan Ghetto proceeded like he always does to the mess hall for a midnight snack when he heard something going on in the kitchens. He went to go look, unaware that it was not the serving droids, who had ran out when the mercenary shooed them and found the Brunaai's patrol. Jaing opened the door, and Padawan Anek gagged him with her hand, forcing him to quiet down. After a brief struggle, she let go and Jaing stayed quiet. Soon after, the lights went out, and the mercenary proceeded to fight them.)_

_(The fighting stopped as soon as Brunaai and others arrived. They escorted the mercenary to the Medical Bay so as Healer White could treat him. Brunaai took Anek and Ghetto to my quarters to relive the event, and for minimal Healing. The rest of this story comes from WeaponMaster Xanni. He and two others dragged the mercenary to a room in the Medical Bay, where Healer Bonnie White examined his memories. She was touched a dark spot in his mind, and was pulled into another conciousness. Soon, she was incoherent and in pain. Finally, she collapsed. The last thing she had said was to find Rogan Strife.)_

_(Master Xanni says that her heart still beats faintly. She has entered into a coma, swallowed by the darkness.) _Vieux sighed through his nose. _(What do you make of this?)_

Sanji Taban, a Zabrak woman with a defined facial structure and chocolate skin, interlaced her fingers and bowed her head. "How can a minimal amount of a man's mind be forced into another's?" she asked.

_(She walked into a part of his mind that was not his own, and was drawn into the other's consciousness.)_

"But is that even possible?"

"Controlling mind takes practice," Lu Ten, the Trandoshan, said. "Not something all is gifted. And those are: they no become perfect at same day. Takes _yeeerz._ To do something that scale, you be older than, than… the Grandmaster. Can _you_ do that?"

_(Only when the need presents itself. The knowledge is partly lost to me. It's an art the Sith of old have used before. But I cannot do it on that scale, no.)_

"None of _us_ did it, I'm sure," Hann said stiffly. "And no other Jedi here are more skilled than Master Vieux." He paused a beat, looking hesitant. "Do you think the Sith are on the rise again?"

Sanji snorted. Her mocha dark skin glistened in the faint orange light that signaled the early Ossusian sunrise was not far off. "It would be too easy to believe that the Sith are back."

"Can you think of anything else? Anybody with a motive?"

"Rogan Strife," Jemayah said. "A dangerous man. He doesn't like Jedi."

_(This sounds like Rogan Strife,) _Vieux said. _(He who would rather let the machine do it for him and lay back on his throne.)_

"It's true," Sanji said. "But lets keep all the other options open, too. Do we have any current strayed Force Users? Jemayah?"

Jemayah's large, angular eyes closed, and Vieux knew she was running through her list of information in her mind. Finally, she nodded. "Jae Anek, Jean Anek's… mother. But she is accounted for. She left after Jean came into her life. She could not handle the responsibility. She keeps in touch, however. She does not want us to see her as a dangerous homicidal Dark Side user. In her own words. She works as a waitress at the Bucket on Coruscant. In the old days, Jedi families worked there to keep an eye on their children at the Jedi Temple."

"Write her up, Sanji," Hann said. "We'll check out the list when we're through." Sanji nodded. She had taken a sheet a flimsi paper from the small endtable next to her chair and was hastily scribbling notes and names down for further research. "I'll call in a favor from Irving at the RHI and see if we can get records. Blasted Cerean has all the answers."

Vieux was not amused by this statement. He was thinking of something else.

Rogan Strife… Vieux knew the man personally. Rogan, or "Rogue", as he liked to be called, was born to a big family on Talravin with three older brothers and two younger sisters. His mom left them when he was ten, and his father pursued the fine art of drinking. His dad had so many girlfriends, Strife had felt neglected. When he had asked for some form of attention, his father's current girlfriend had beaten him so severely he had nerve problems the rest of his life, resulting in a little "twist" of a brain cell. Strife had visions of a balance of order and nice people. When he was twelve, he had magnified this thought to a whole new level and killed his dad's newest girlfriend with a dinner fork. He had "Erased the evil from the house."

He was charged for second-degree murder and sent to juvvie on Coruscant, where he joined a gang called the Chatsworth Eights. They were high on the racial scale, and Rogan fit right in. They organized an escape, and Rogan was back out on the street with his newfound friends at fifteen years of age. A much too tender age for this to be happening.

On the one occasion Vieux had captured Strife, he surveyed his memories using the same method Bonnie White had used on the mercenary, At this time, he had started doing drugs and spice. He never touched alcohol, which in itself was strange since his father was an alcoholic. He killed fifteen more at a mass shootout between the Chatsworth Eights and CorSec, and at sixteen became the leader of the gang.

They started some bounty hunting jobs over on Concord Dawn, and always came up with their victims. Rogan Strife was indeed Force Sensitive, like Vieux had first thought, and had used these skills to his advantage without knowing it. Soon, Cem Dhagon heard of their exploits and enlisted them in his pirate crew: the HawkBats.

Rogan continued working for Cem for a long time, until his thirties. Once he took over the pirates, though, Vieux had been on his tail like _that._ He tried to arrest him, but Rogan Strife was a challenge. When Vieux had finally had him captured, he had performed the memory scan, and heavily sedated him. He had gone to regroup with the rest of the Jedi Knights hunting him, and found out the hard way how easily Rogan Strife could fake unconsciousness.

He had escaped and actually _stole_ Vieux's ship, stranding them on Harrun Kal until the Republic sent a ride for them.

_He is a very slippery one. _Vieux had been looking for another excuse to go after him again—which he could have, considering he was the Grandmaster and all—but now he had a real reason, and not a desire for revenge. He was connected to all of this somehow, but not even Rogan Strife could dominate a person's mind like that without great training.

Jemayah looked at him with soft brown eyes that seemed to pierce his shields and let him know she knew everything that went on inside his head. _(Rogan Strife needs to be captured,)_ Vieux said. _(At all costs. Master Taban, how long do you think it could take you to get me a lead?)_

"You're going after him," Sanji said softly, stating it as a fact. "Don't worry, Grandmaster: I've been researching him long before this incident. I'll call in a few owed favors. He can't hide for long."

_(I will help.)_

"No, you'll get in the way," Sanji said. "But thanks. I've got it taken care of, Grandmaster."

"The mercenary?" Jemayah asked. "Something needs to be done about him. And Healer White. Vieux?"

Vieux was silent for a heartbeat, processing this all. Bonnie White _had_ to know something: they just had to get around the strong mental barriers she had placed around herself. Even if they could, Vieux had a strange feeling all they would find would be darkness, and held a secret fear that those who studied her would be connected to the alien mind somehow.

_(I do not believe the man was the culprit, but rather the victim. Remove his restraints, if he has any, and let him walk freely. I sense no danger. And for Healer White… I will have two of my Padawans observe her. And myself.)_

"Which Padawans are you planning on using, Grandmaster?" Sanji asked. "I was about to request Evlyn from you, if at all possible."

_(You may take her. But let her rest. Let us _all_ rest. It has been a busy day, and we're not even started yet. I will send Evlyn to you in this afternoon. Jean and Jaing will be reporting to the Medical Bay early in the morning.)_

"Vieux hath spoken," Sanji said, though she sounded a bit distant, more put-off. When Vieux glanced at her, he noticed she was bent over sideways, writing like mad: she was on her third page of paper.

"Should we keep the lockdown initiated?" Hann asked.

_(Yes, keep the lockdown active until further notice. If Rogan Strife is hiding on these grounds, I want him locked out of here. Jemayah and Hann will search for any sign of him outside.) _They nodded. _(Also, keep some of the older Padawans on patrols. I understand a Code Grey has been announced. Take seventy-five-percent back to their studies. Don't keep this a secret: We are all in danger.)_

Jemayah cocked an eyebrow. "You're going to bargain with them indirectly," she muttered.

_So she knows? I must be slipping._

_(It will be easier for them to help, would it not?)_ Vieux inquired. _(The slight fear will press them to act. A good life experience, and it may also help us become one step closer to finding Rogan Strife.)_

"Girlie coming," Lu Ten said suddenly. His head was cocked to the side. "In hurry."

Vieux knew she was coming, too. There was a buzz at the door—three insistent buzzes—and then silence. Vieux could feel the anxiety radiating off of their intruder in waves. "Enter," Sanji called.

The door opened and a lithe girl of about eleven or twelve jogged in, obviously out of breath. Her face had gone pale. "Auron Kae, Jedi Padawan reporting," she said. She straightened, gave a quick bow, and brushed flyaway strands of blonde hair away from her eyes. "There's a bomb in the Enclave."

The girl could not have been more deadpan.

Each Council Member's face went blank with shock. "What?" Sanji asked. She had completely forgotten her notes. Vieux knew she did not intend to scare the younger girl, but achieved that desired effect. Auron's right shoulder dipped in her direction slightly and her back tensed. "How did this happen? Well?"

"I don't know, Masters," Auron stammered. "We were doing rounds—me, Evlyn, and Devin—and we went into the cafeteria. I found it first. It's small and black with a silver-and-red ring around the middle. It's attached to the Main Generator. Devin thinks it's remote-controlled."

There was a brief pause as this sunk in.

_(Show me,)_ Vieux said. He rose out of his seat, all eight feet of him towering over the girl. She nodded, bowed, and turned around, jogging back towards the hallways.

Vieux followed close behind. The Council emptied out behind him as they each went tot their respective duties, and Vieux felt a gleam of satisfaction. Auron took a sharp left and entered a maintenance stairway instead of the Turbolift. When he questioned her on this, she said, "Aren't working."

No wonder she had appeared so out-of-breath. But this left Vieux with another matter.

_Sabotage? Or a coincidence? _

He made a mental note to find out soon.

Going down the stairs were hard for Vieux, especially since his feet were giant. And, of course, since he never used the stairs.

_Warriors never forget to get attuned with their local surroundings. You have had it too easy._

They entered the boiler room where the Enclave's water was processed and the heat was made. The entire room was bathed in a red glow, accompanied by metal walkways and small service panels on every dead end. Ancient fans swirled above them, casting an unsuccessful wind on them. Auron had disappeared through another walkway, and emerged on the one opposite him. He followed close behind, making sure not to get burned.

This was not his territory anymore.

_(How do you know your way around here?)_

"Because I made exploring this place my business," came the short reply. She no longer sounded afraid on him. "Going down is a lot easier than up. Right turn."

After successfully navigating through hundreds of walkways and probably forty floors, they came back into a regular hallway. Vieux felt all stretched out and ready for a good bought of sparring. An amusing thought hit him. _The boiler rooms could be a part of my morning exercises._

A part of him was ashamed that he had never visited that room before this. When eleven-year-old girls got curious enough they found out just about everything of everything. They say it's a sign of maturity when the young ones teach you something. Unfortunately, Vieux could not afford to take that lesson right now.

_I will ask her later._

If there would be a later.

Bombs were the kind of things Rogan liked to use. He would prefer to sit back and watch the show, or even give a nudge or two for his enjoyment. He would never get his hands dirty. Vanity was the man's issue. Among others.

He was jerked back into the present when Auron tripped. A curse left her lips, and she steadied herself just in time. "We're almost there," she said.

_(We're five levels up,)_ Vieux reasoned.

"I know," Auron said. "And the Turbolift is six levels down. Jump down the shaft, open the door, and the deed is done."

Vieux felt pride bubble within his chest at Auron's reasoning.

He envied no sentient who would inevitably try to outsmart her.

They reached the Turbolift doors and Auron typed in a number on the pad. The starship-exterior doors opened. Vieux had to duck through the opening, but managed to land safely on the top of the Turbolift roof. Auron landed a little less gracefully next to him. She put her hand on the door, and Vieux felt her draw upon the Force. With a casual twitch of her mind, the doors flew open.

They stepped out into the cool, air-conditioned hall, and Auron let go of her grip slowly so the doors didn't bang together. Vieux faintly recalled he had made sure that they were airtight when he first had them installed.

He had rebuilt the Enclave into a large mountain wall. The outside blended in, perfectly carved piece-by-piece. There were no windows, except for translucent orange domes at the top of every Spire, plus one at the very top of the Enclave, where the sunlight hit the most and cast a great color in the rooms. A large granite gate about five stories high prevented anybody without the proper codes entrance. Concealed turrets were positioned on the gate and in strategic places on the mountain wall. There were more than a thousand stories, most of which held empty room and false energy signatures in case of an attack. The dim lighting was made to confuse night-vision sensors and flesh-and-blood beings from detecting friend-or-foe. The airtight Turbolift shaft doubled as a refuge, for small tunnels were made every five floors that actually led through the mountain, underground, and into the capital city of Imbraani.

Everything had been tricked out to his specifications. He and the strongest Force Users of the day had built the Enclave by hand, shaping it, forming it… In Vieux's eyes, it was beautiful.

They stopped at a door, and Auron warned him to close his eyes. "They might not have time to adjust to the bright lights," she explained. She pushed open the door, and they entered the mess hall. Vieux didn't look at the wreckage, but over towards the kitchen door, a little ways away.

Vieux got there before the girl and walked into the wrecked kitchen. He raised a scaled brow in amusement as he surveyed the damage the other two Padawans had done. They had taken out almost half of the wall with delicate little strokes of a lightsaber, which he saw was lying a few meters away. The design looked similar to the one Devin usually used. The part of the wall they had chopped off was lying on the floor, inside paneling facing upwards. On further inspection, Vieux saw that it was actually hanging by two wires while its' end scraped the surface.

"We're back guys… Oh. What did you guys _do?_" Auron's surprised little voice came from behind him.

Devin was kneeling next to the main generator. He glanced up at Vieux and nodded. "It's a bomb, all right. She told you?" Vieux nodded. Devin pursed his lips. "I can't remove it without a real mechanic, or we'll all be a big floating hunk 'o junk orbiting Coruscant. Evlyn noticed a seam behind the wall next to the generator housing, and felt around a bit. We found _this._" He held up a stone in his hand for the older Jedi to see. "Could be anything. But look at it through the Force. See that?"

He reached out one clawed finger to touch it, sinking into the Force. Although sunken in Dark Side energies, Vieux found it radiated a sense of peace. Calm music seemed to play by itself in his mind, a kind of music that was just beyond remembering. He started humming from deep in his throat. It grew into an echo-like sounds, bouncing off of the walls. The three Padawans listened for a moment, eyes half-closed and wondering.

The song was one of ancient harmony and peace, something Vieux knew only his species could properly interpret. But he could not stop humming. It was a piece of his homeland coming back to him—

"Stop! Stop, please!" Devin's voice came over his humming. "I can't control myself!"

Opening his eyes, which he did not realize he had closed, he apologized and looked at the stone with an ancient sadness that seemed to reflect itself in the dark pools of green and purple inside of the gems. _(I have not heard that for a long time…)_ He shared these thoughts with all in his presence. _(It was music played by those who cannot talk. They weave their spells through their songs, making them nigh irresistible. Only my species are immune. The effects are more disastrous for humans. You may find yourself inclined to mate with the opposite gender, get a bad haircut… or destroy the Enclave.)_

"What did it say?" Evlyn inquired.

Vieux turned his glazed-over purple eyes in her direction, looking through the girl in thought. _(It was a form of persuasion that cannot be explained in words,)_ he offered. _(I would suspect the true message is for the one carrying it. Master Xanni informed me of his Sorusan heritage.)_

"Let's ask him, then," Devin said.

"What about the bomb?" Evlyn asked.

_(It is not connected right,)_ Vieux said. _(It poses no threat. It is safe to remove.)_

The Padawans let out a sigh of relief. "The stone, though," Auron said. "How did he get the stone? Don't your people make that kind of 'music'?"

Vieux fell silent. After nodding that yes, indeed his people performed that kind of music, he stood and rocked back on his heels. Devin disconnected the bomb and stuck it into his pocket, possibly for a lady-friend Vieux had noticed he was getting close to. _(You may return to your beds,)_ he said. _(Evlyn, please report to Master Taban in the evening after your lunch. Auron, Devin: you're classed will go as planned.)_

Vieux made sure the three were in front of him and away from the wreckage before he fingered the stone again and put it in his own pocket. Devin turned, obviously unaware of what the Grandmaster had just did. "What about Jean and Jaing?" he asked. "Are they going to keep their classes?"

_(Thank you for reminding me. No, they will not. They will report to me at the MedBay at 1100 hours. I will be making an announcement near the evening of the recent events, and then we will concentrate on helping Master Taban find Rogan Strife.)_

"The name clicks," Vieux heard Devin muttered. "But I don't know why."

"Auron, come on, I'll walk you back to your room," Evlyn said.

"No, I'm good," Auron said. "I'm going to check with Master Brunaai and man the cameras."

"Even with classes tomorrow?"

"I've lived on caffa before."

"You're crazy. You haven't even gone on a mission yet." This from Devin. They continued walking towards the exit. Already, behind them, service droids were cleaning up the mess. Everything would be as good as new come lunchtime.

Every trace gone.

Something changed on Auron's face as Devin's comment registered. "I don't have a Master yet," she said.

"Better get one soon," Devin said. "Thirteen's the limit, right?"

"Then it's a good thing I don't know when my birthday is, isn't it? I could say I'm nine."

"Just saying."

They walked in silence for a moment. Vieux realized that this kind of conversation must have happened before he came, and it was now being finished with respectful words and taunts.

Devin was toying with her fears.

_I don't teach that here._

"Good night," Auron said stiffly, and disappeared. Her head later reappeared by a corner. "And Grandmaster, I'd advise you to do something about the Turbolifts. Or the AC."

Devin and Evlyn raised their eyebrows. Vieux shocked them both by bowing low to Auron. _(I will. I promise. May the Force be with you, and the stars watch over.)_ The last part, he added only so she would hear: _(You are a great apprentice. Do not let childish taunts fool you into believing you _aren't._ Good night.)_

Auron smiled slightly and disappeared once more. Vieux turned and turned off the lights to the mess hall, covering everything with darkness.

--

Jean woke up to the sound of ringing and suppressed a groan. Hoisting herself up on her elbows, she opened her eyes, blinking back sleepiness. The first thing she did was reach out to turn off the alarm clock, but where her alarm clock used to be, there was a plate of food… and a note. Two notes.

_Room service?_ Jean thought. She did a casual sweep of her room, as if looking for an intruder, then blinked. She blinked again. She was in the stark white MedBay, not the calm granite quarters she was used to living in. As the night's events replayed themselves in her mind, Jean experimentally flexed her leg. Her jaw hardened as sharp pang sang through her thigh, and decided just to reach out and eat her breakfast for the time being.

The nuna eggs looked good, but Jean wasn't very hungry. She nibbled a bit just to be polite, and so Healer White wouldn't fuss over her, and left it at that. She fingered the two notes left beside her plate of eggs, and opened the first one, which was written in sloppy handwriting she had to concentrate to actually understand.

_:REPORT TO ROOM 001 IN SICK BAY AT 1100 HOURS – VIEUX:_

I_ wonder if Smiley cracked yet… Where's Jaing at, anyways?_

The next note answered her questions. It was from Devin.

_:Hey, Jean. Why didn't you tell me you heard something outside your door? We could have checked it out together! The entire Enclave's on a Code Grey alert because of what happened. We've got an eleven-year-old manning the cameras! Auron Kae. All the Council Members are stirred up about Rogan Strife. I have to go meet Master Taban with Evlyn at 0700 to help find him. _

_You get all the luck._

_Vieux says you're to report to him at 1100, so don't be late! Jaing's coming, too, if he's up to it. You sure as hell took a beating there, Jean. I was worried. _

_It's a good thing I'm not mentioning the bomb. Then you would be worried._

_Dev_

_PS-Evvie brought your lightsaber. KEEP IT WITH YOU ALL THE TIME!:_

Bomb?

What bomb?

What was going on?

Jean hastily reread the note just to make sure Devin said _bomb_, and leaned against her pillows, feeling confused and afraid. She stared blankly at the paper for another minute, running through the possibilities, before she finally put the tray back on the table and painfully got out of bed. She saw a clean leather jerkin hanging on the small foldable chair—the only other piece of furniture in the MedBay—and limped over, using the small bathroom to change into it. She kept on her sleeping pants, which still bulged slightly with bandages that hurt her if you touched them.

She took her lightsaber with her this time, heeding Devin's advice. She stepped into the corridor, lightsaber in hand, and started down the hall slowly. It was always bright, at maximum light like at the mess hall, so she had no real indication of time. Nobody was wandering the halls like her, and she managed to get herself lost in the maze of corridors.

_Great._

Jean slumped against the wall.

_I am such an idiot._

Jean grimaced and sat down, keeping her right leg straight out. Vieux had healed the worst of it, but the man had plunged half of the knife into her thigh and pulled _down_, ripping tendons and muscles she hadn't know existed until now. It was throbbing like hell, and Jean blew out a breath, exasperated.

_You let that happen, Jean. What's gotten into you? You could've taken him out without Jaing's help!_

Something had been wrong about the man. He didn't feel _right_. Hell, she didn't know. A Calming Exercise would've helped if she had ever paid attention in those particular classes. _Okay. Focus. Breath in and out, let everything flow… Nope, not feelin' it._

Jean leaned her head against the wall and let out a heavy sigh. She closed her eyes for a moment, and had visions of a man with grey hair and a haggard face approaching her with a steel, bloodstained dagger…

--

Somebody was shaking her and calling her name. "I don't want to go to class," Jean muttered, turning her body sideways and away. "I'm beating up the merc…"

"Wake up, Padawan," said a weary, agitated voice. "Padawan Anek, wake up this instant."

Jean popped open one eye and grimaced. She opened her eyes again, squinting through the bright lights. "Huh?" she asked, staring up at the face of Healer Phalanx, a blue-skinned male Chiss dressed in shocking white medical uniform. His hard red eyes looked into her own blue ones. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes," Phalanx said. "Up, Anek. Your leg's not fully healed yet."

"I don't care," she muttered. Her face, scrunched up with effort to see past the bright lights, suddenly turned angry. "Where's the bomb at?"

"Bomb?"

"Devin said there was a bomb."

Phalanx sighed. "You will be told the entire story by the Grandmaster. I am not at liberty to discuss."

"Then how did Dev find out?" Jean shot back.

"He was the one who found it," Phalanx said patiently. "Now, follow me back to your room." He reached out a hand and held her arm in a vise-like grip, pulling her up.

"Hey, stop," Jean said. "I'm not going back in there. What time is it?"

"It is 0647," Phalanx informed her, though from the stiff tone in his voice, Jean knew he did not like being disobeyed. "Now, come with me young lady."

"No," Jean said, pulling away from him. "Can I at least go back to my quarters?"

"It is too stressful. March, Padawan/"

"I said no," Jeans said coldly. She looked directly into the Chiss' eyes. "I want to know what happened."

There was a short pause, in which Phalanx's lips tightened in what could have been a snarl. "You are seventeen years old, Padawan. You are not in the proper age group to be bossing _me_ around."

"So what?" Jean snapped. "As a Padawan, it is my duty to know what is going on within the Enclave _at all times._ I'm not an apprentice."

"You are doing a reasonably good job of _acting like it_," Phalanx said angrily.

"Where's Healer White?"

Phalanx snarled. "Room. Now. I will fetch you when your Master arrives to take possession of you."

Jean snorted. "Him and what army?" she muttered. She didn't continue the argument, maybe because she was tired, or maybe because the sedative Phalanx had injected into her about an hour before she woke up was taking effect.

"I suggest a Healing Trance," Phalanx said stiffly as he led her back to her room. "Though they do no good if the user is as stubborn as a human."

"I'll take that as a compliment, _sir_."

A small growl issued in Phalanx's throat. She let herself a small smile before returning to her bed, sinking into the gentle currents of a Healing Trance.


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

The cantina didn't have a name; it didn't need one. Nobody ever had any trouble finding it. Phaeda was a small world, barely more than a moon with an atmosphere and some indigenous plant life. There were precious few places to go: the colonies, the warehouses, the hanger bays, or the barren wastes in between. The colonies were a massive complex built on top of collapsed mining tunnels, where all of the housing units and offices were located.

Rogan Strife had residence in one of those housing units, which was nothing more than a bunch of old army barracks thrown together to house the criminals and spice dealers that came passing by. The offices had gathered up an inch layer of dirt in their time, and nobody had ever considered hiring janitors to sweep it all out. It was a waste of credits.

The planet had once been a great place, or so he had been told. _Probably complete with saunas and working toilets, too,_ Rogan thought. The only building with some color was the cantina, a magnificent triumph of beauty and design when compared to the dismissal homogeny of the rest of the colony. The cantina was built a few hundred meters beyond the edge of the town, set well apart from the barracks. The three-story building towered over the other singal-floor "muck-huts", completed with a dome made of violet glass, illuminated from within. Matching violet lights covered the pale blue exterior walls. On almost any other world, the effect would have been revolting, and amid Phaeda it was doubly so. The owner and bartender, Leela, claimed she had made the bar as tacky as possible to offend the little inspectors that came to check things out once every thirty years.

As Rogan crossed the distance between his housing unit and the cantina, he drew his leather jacket closer around himself, not to protect him from the cold, but to hide the small hold-out blaster and the special "item" within. Rogan didn't recognize any of the faces within the cantina, and he didn't really care. It wasn't crowded, but there was a modest amount of men and woman there. There were no employees except Leela herself, and Rogan didn't mind. He knew her well enough already: she had saved his smoking rear end more than once, and he could wait.

Apparently he didn't have to wait long, for as soon as the pretty brunette saw him, she momentarily dipped out of sight behind the bar, reappearing with a mug of Gizer ale just as Rogan reached the counter. "I wasn't expecting you today," she said, with a hint of a smile. She set the drink down with a heavy thud and slid it over to Rogan.

"I have an appointment with a regular," Rogan said, downing the drink in one large gulp, then slammed the empty mug back on the bar table. Once again he was thankful about Leela's policy: if a drink was poured without being asked for, it's free.

Leela tilted her head and leaned foreword to look him better in the eye. As usual, he was felt with the curious sensation that she was studying him. Concerned. Rogan never had anyone's concern before, and he treasured its' value. "Things are getting to you," Leela said after a moment. "Are you sure you're not overworking yourself?"

Rogan thought about the Kalanese Chieftain and almost grimaced. Almost. "Maybe a little bit," he said. "But it's all going to be for the better, believe me."

Leela just pursed her lips and poured him another cup. She never asked too many questions, and Rogan was fine with that. He was careful not to shove his drink back down again as he had with the first. Leela rarely gave him more than one on the house, and he had to be careful not to tread on her hospitality. She was an unarmed combat expert, and was known to throw a Barabel out of the cantina without a second thought. She doubled at the cantina bouncer, though it would be hard to tell from her form fitting clothes and her soft demeanor.

Rogan turned his attention to the crowd. It was easy enough to pick out his man: a small man with grey hair and a grizzled expression, hunched over a game of sabaac at one of the tables near the back. "You're meeting with Ram?" Leela asked. She leaned over the bar with a glass in hand, wiping it with a dirty rag. She glanced at the old man, then back to Rogan. "Be careful with that one, Rogue. They all say he's a mad scientist. I don't ask too many questions about that guy. He pays the bills, and that's all what counts."

"He carry any weapons?" Rogan asked.

"A small bulge in his pocket," Leela said. "I was meaning to go over there and remind him about the No Weapons Policy before you came in. While we're on that topic: give me your gun."

Rogan gave her an apologetic look. "Sharp eyes as ever, Lee," he said. He took his weapon out of jacket holster and handed it to her. She took it and leaned over with her other hand, setting the mug down and opening his jacket further. She inhaled in surprise. He touched her hand, directing it towards his chest, where his "item" would not be visible. Rogan looked at her intently.

"No way, Rogue… You're not a Jedi!" Leela said in a tight whisper. For a moment he saw a trace of fear in her eyes, which he knew could harden into resolve any second and he'd find himself on the roads before you could say "whoops."

"I'm not," Rogan said. "I nicked it from… an acquaintance. Remember old VeeVee?"

Leela glared at him. "That's a Jedi weapon, Strife," she said plainly. "The natives don't like Jedi here."

"I brought it to ensure our _friend's_ help," Rogan said, jerking his head towards the old man at the sabaac table. A man pushed his way to the front of the bar and demanded a drink. When Leela went to go fill the order, Rogan turned to study the gaming area. There weren't any free seats at the sabaac table, and Rogan was forced into the role of a spectator. For well over an hour he studied the plays and wagers of the newcomers, paying particular attention to Ram. He tended to be the better player than the rest of the wimps.

The game on Phaeda followed a modified version of the Bespin Standard rules. The basics of the game were simple: make a hand as close to twenty-three as possible without going over. Each round, a player had to either bet to stay in the hand, or fold. Any player who chose to stay in could draw a new card, discard a card, or place a card into the inferance field to lock in its value. At the end of any round a player could come up revealing his or her hand forcing all other players to show their cards as well. Best hand won the pot. Any score over twenty-three or below negative twenty-three, was a bomb-out that required the player to pay a penalty. If a player had exactly twenty-three—a pure sabbaac—he or she automatically won the pot.

Simple.

About another hour later, everybody had folded and it was only Ram and a young man left. Finally, Ram flipped over his hand and showed them his numbers: a pure sabaac. He tapped the cards, and whispered one word into the man's ear.

He went ballistic. He leapt up, grabbed the underside of the table, and heaved. Though is was attached to the ground, it rocked back and forth, causing drinks to spill over the electronic cards, which made them spark and short out.

"Hey! Try some self-control!" came a shout from a Cerean on the other side of the table.

"Shut up, you!" The man grabbed one of the overturned mugs and hurled it at the Cerean, who was knocked down flat on his back. Rogan stood: this was what he had been waiting for. The man pointed a finger at Ram. "You cheated! Nobody gets sabaac on a sudden demise! Not unless he cheats!"

Ram looked mildly amused. "I consider myself too important to cheat," he said. "Unlike yourself, who had a Shift under his sleeve the whole time." Then, with a speed faster than possible for a man his age, he took the man's wrist and flipped it over, revealing the blue-and-red tip of a card just sticking out.

The man brought his arm back angrily and turned to the crowd. "Is this how you treat your customers here?!" he roared at Leela, who had been pouring a mug of beer for another. "You sick, perverted, obstinent slut! You don't care about us! You're little CardShark droid here can't tell when an old man cheats! No, no, you're too busy trying to get everyone _drunk!_"

A couple of the man's friends surged foreword. The male patrons, all heavily-muscled and dangerous, surged foreward, blocking their way out. Rogan could feel their anger a mile away, and relished it, taking another sip of his recent drink, a cup of translucent orange Klev. He had taken personal offense at the man's rude remarks, but kept quiet. Watching, and waiting for the right chance to slip in.

"All of you here are filthy pieces of trash, you know that??!! _AT LEAST I HAVE SOME VALUES! You should get on your knees and thank me every time I land on this filthy planet!_"

An bottle flew out from the crowds and narrowly missed the man, who took no notice of it. Rogan decided the time was right, and drank the rest of his drink, laying down the tab before silently sliding out of his seat, steadily making his way closer to the intoxicated fellow. "—and _you!_ What do you have to say for yourself? You crazy old man! Locked away in that god damned cellar you call a lab! Time I taught you to get out once in a while!"

Rogan was there right before the man threw the fist. He stood in front, blocking the man's blow with his entire left arm. He slid in, driving a right hook into the man's jaw. It knocked him back into his group of friends, who staggered under the dead weight. Everything went silent except for the grumblings of his friends. Another stepped foreword and shoved Rogan. "Hey! That's my friend you hit!"

"And he tried to hit _mine,_" Rogan growled.

"You ain't his friend, you boatload of sh—"

A single blaster shot stopped everything. Leela had climbed to the top of the counter, and held a single stun gun in her hand, pointed towards the ceiling. "Out!" she ordered. "We're closed. You two stay here and help me clean up." She pointed towards Ram and Rogan. With an angry grumble, the crowd dispersed, leaving them at the sabaac table. Leela locked the door and angrily pointed at Rogan. "Have your little talk," she said gruffly. "If you're not out in an hour, you're going to be kicked out."

Ram looked at Leela for a moment, a sad expression on his face. "I didn't mean to cause this little interruption."

"It's fine," Leela said, taking a rag to the mess. "I knew something was going to happen when Rogue started watching. He's bad luck that way."

"That right?" Ram muttered.

Leela nodded. She shooed them towards another table, and proceeded to clean up. Ram sat down on one side, and Rogan took the other. "I have a proposition for you," Rogan said, leaning back in his chair. "I'll let you keep a sample of my blood if you modify your latest experiment to my liking."

Ram snorted. "Why would I want a sample of your blood, space jockey?" he asked. "Do you have the plague or something?" He took a sip out of the drink he had saved during the little fiasco.

"Because I've got a medichlorian count of over twelve thousand," Rogan said. "I have no doubt you know what that means. Plus I'll give you an extra two mil. Take it or leave it." _I can make you do it, scumball. A little talk with the Kalanese would make everything better._

Ram's expression didn't flinch. "Three million. You know what I'm making, and you know the consequences that would follow if it fell into the wrong hands. I'll need money to get a ship out of here and live the rest of my days peacefully."

"I don't think you know who you're dealing with," Rogan said offhandily, sliding his hand under his jacket. He grasped the large lightsaber handle, fitted for something with hands the size of a very large dinner plate, and placed it on the table with a dull thud. The golden plating reflected in the dim purple lighting, and the green jem laid in the activation stud sparkled. "My name is Rogan Strife, captain of the HawkBats, and the only man known to escape the leader of the Jedi and live to show you this lightsaber. Dear old VeeVee's."

Ram's expression turned into distaste. "That isn't right," he muttered.

"Right or no, this lightsaber is _mine,_ now. Personally stolen from Vieux _while_ I hotwired his ship and flew off, stranding the lizard in the Harrun Kal jungle. I have more powers than you can possibly imagine, Ram, and I'll I need in the guarantee you'll do exactly as I say."

Ram's pointed teeth showed in the dim lighting. "You're threatening me, Strife. What happens if I say no?"

"Then I will make you do it. I've had practice with the best… For every secret I learn, there is a terrible price." Rogan shuddered slightly, and looked far away, engrossed in his thoughts. "A terrible price…" He snapped back to the present. "And after you're done, I would kill you. If I manage to convince you to do it, you'll be let go to live your own life."

"You're crazy."

"I've been told," Rogan said dryly. "Three million credits, my blood. All for your little experiment."

Ram's lips tightened into a snarl. "Fine," he spat. He held out his hand, and they shook on it.

--

All in one motion, Vieux felt the world around him collapse. He leaned on one of the cooridor walls for support, breathing heavily. Thankfully, nobody was in the halls at this time: they were all at their classes. Vieux's eyes drooped at he looked towards the ground, sapped of strength.

There was a major disturbance of the Force from far off, but Vieux could feel it in his bones. In his soul.

Rogan Strife had made his first move.


	11. Chapter 10

Libraries were nice, Evlyn decided. They were quiet, and they had computers. Nia, the bookkeeper, had taken care of them from the start. After directing both Evlyn and Sanji to the directory, she even researched a bit herself. Nia knew her ways through the archives better than anyone, and had quickly put them on a search program that was _good._ Not idiotic like Google, where the only results you would get would be crazy forum members who claim to be everything they weren't. This way was a lot faster, but it didn't tell Evlyn anything she needed to know.

How do you find someone who knows how to hide from the galaxy? Better yet, how do you find a guy that can outsmart Vieux?

It was a tough process, starting at a dead-end as soon as they typed in his name. Strife disappeared five years before his and Vieux's confrontation on Harrun Kal. It was common knowledge that he used the identity Flow while on Harrun Kal, but "Flow" disappeared as well.

Evlyn prided in her tracking skills, but this was beyond her. "Master? Did you find anything?"

A sigh. "No," Sanji muttered under her breath. "I've never had to track him down 'officially' before, so I'm at a dead-end."

"It looks like he's been using untraceable cred coins," Evlyn pointed out. Cred coins were implanted with an electric scanner that let the cashier know who was buying their goods. Having untraceable ones—ones with no scanner inside—was suspicious, but not illegal. "I wish I knew."

"Good point," Sanji said. "There isn't a way to trace untraceables, so he's probably got a whole bank-full just waiting to be spent."

"We could always check out his homeworld," Evlyn said. "Talravin."

"No," Sanji said, frowning. "He had too many bad childhood memories, there. I remember a school I went to when I was a girl. I hated it. The only reason I would go back is if I was dreaming."

Evlyn snorted. "Okay, Talravin's out. I just wish we had some sort of lead…"

"Vieux could have carried you on your back until you were eighteen, too."

"Search programs with dead ends get on my nerves," Evlyn said indignantly. "Because that either means this or Google." She keyed in a command on the consol. "Look! There's over one trillion, nine hundred fifty million, four hundred sixty thousand, eight hundred five results! All brought up in nine-point-two seconds. Maybe if I close my eyes and pick one…"

Sanji gasped. "You know what I just thought of when you said that? A finger landing on a choice! You're a genius!" Evlyn stared at her blankly, uncomprehending. "_Land_, Evlyn, _land._ Leela Landyn! She and Strife had a relationship going on by the time of Harrun Kal!" She laughed,

"Nice to know about her personal life," Evlyn said. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

Sanji nodded vigorously. "We'll figure out if that piece of Intel I eavesdropped from Irving paid off," she said brightly. "I'll call him today and get him to check."

"Who the heck's Irving?" Evlyn asked, puzzled.

"He works at Coruscant Intel," Sanji told her. "He's my best friend, and a pretty good athlete for his age. He can get me the location of Landyn, I know he can. They're way more advanced than us. Here." She filched through her belt and took out the small hand-held comlink. She typed in a frequency and held it out in front of her, gnawing at her lip.

No answer.

"Call him later," Evlyn said impatiently. "Let's check up on our own little search menu before we make a fool out of ourselves." Sanji laughed again. Evlyn stared at her blankly. "Did I remind you of some _reallyreallyreally_ good break that can tell us exactly where they both are?"

Sanji shook her head, grinning. "No, you sounded so much like Vieux for a moment."

Evlyn snorted, returning to her work. "He's too formal in my opinion," she said lazily. "He always has whatever is left of his nose sticking in the air."

"He's proud of his powers," Sanji said patiently. "And he has a reason to be. Look: give him some time, and you'll come to like him a lot."

"No offense, but there has to be meds involved, ma'am."

--

Something was wrong. Jaing could feel it, and it scared him. After being rudely awakened by their new Head of Healing, Jaing had been rushed into another small room reserved for dangerous victims. Bonnie White lie on a long observation table, hooked up to several monitors, which monitored breathing, heart rate, and stress levels. It looked surreal to see the fiery old lady lying down on that table, pale, nearly dead. An oxygen mask covered her mouth, pumping air every five minutes, while a tube was placed through a hold in the mask, that seemed to go all the way down her throat. It had to be a feeding tube.

Jaing swallowed and continued to stare, hit with the sudden urge to leave the room. He imagined White's eyes snapping open, much like those horror movies used to scare little kids. What made it worse was when the Chiss left him in the room with her… alone. He gave no explanation to him but to wait, and that he would be back shortly.

Jaing involuntarily shivered. He grimaced. "There's nothing to worry about," he muttered. "Oh Force, is she dead?" He glanced at the monitors, and felt his heart flutter with relief when he saw the results. Running a hand through his coal-black Padawan-cut hair, he hissed through his teeth, much like Vieux would do in his situation… except Jaing didn't have purple steam coming out of his nose.

He reached foreword and touched Bonnie White's bony arm. It still felt warm. He kept glancing at her face, worried that indeed her eyes _would_ snap open and she'd yell at him. Swallowing hard, Jaing glanced at the monitors again, wondering why she was hooked up to these wires. _Did she collapse? Nothing looks wrong with her._

Jaing furrowed his brow? What would Evlyn tell him at the moment? Probably something MedSpeak. She was honestly like Jean with computers. Jean could rattle off HTML numbers and signals, mechanical drills, starship names and functions. Evlyn could go on and on about a disease, liver transplants, ailments, tools a surgeon would need, and how to put food through a feeding tube. He desperately needed her expertise _now._ Wannabe Surgeon that she was, Evlyn was an invaluable tool.

He sighed. The first thing _Vieux_ would do would be to tell him to check her out with the Force. Scratching his ear, he drew upon what power of the Force he had, drawing it upon himself to envelope his entire body. He reached out to touch Bonnie White again; acutely aware of how cold her skin seemed, now.

He was sucked into a black hole. At least, that was what it felt like. He held his ground, trying to feel past the little pieces of darkness that drifted across his vision. The bigger picture, he knew, would be nothing like he was used to.

Jaing was always valued by Vieux for his _very _advanced danger sense. Sometimes the others joked he could feel a tornado from a galaxy away. He had noticed a while ago that he, Devin, Evlyn, and Jean seemed to have different talents. He was the one with the 'common sense', Devin was the one with the masterful persuading techniques, Evlyn was the tracker, naturally suited with the life around her, and Jean could feel life from various non-living things. They each even carried a small amount of Battle Precognition, though he and Jean had the more powerful of the four.

He was using his common sense and Battle Precognition combined. He had used it enough so he knew when he was doing it. It heightened his awareness and unclouded his mind. He silently probed White's mind, or what was left of it. It was all patched and frayed, as if it had been broken many times in the past twelve hours. She felt _broken_, somehow, with something hard to explain.

She wasn't right in the head. Jaing knew _that_ from when he first met her, but this was worse.

Deep within her subconscious, Jaing probed, poking things he knew he shouldn't. Flashes of dreams and little details her subconscious had noticed flashed before his eyes, but he payed them no attention. _Where are you?_

It was getting darker, and the images fading. Jaing carried on, aware that he had probably passed into the very deep recesses of her mind… except this one carried him farther away. His common sense snapped out, full alert. He pulled back, but was suddenly aware that he couldn't. It drew him in, enveloping him, smothering him like water.

_Help!_

Who would help him, here? Who would dare? An invisible noose tightened around his neck as he got closer, and he screamed without hearing it, and tried screaming again. He was washed with a grim satisfaction of another being, one that felt… cold. Like hot ice. A flash of purple eyes, a yell, Bonnie White's scream of agony—

And suddenly, it was over. Someone had cut the connection like scissors would paper. Jaing's eyes snapped open. He gasped for air, returning oxygen to his bloodstream. Lightheaded, he rubbed his temples, groaning with fear and repressed pain.

Vieux's blue-and-purple eyes met his with such an intensity Jaing was thrown back on his emotional heels. His strange, cat-like eyes seemed to pierce through whatever shield he was putting up. Two large clawed hands shook him gently.

_(You're safe.)_

Jaing looked at him, breathing hard. Finally, he just had to sit down. Jean stood where he had been moments before, her hand on White's head, eyes closed, stone still. Jaing watched her silently until he felt Vieux's eyes upon him. "It tried to kill me," he said. There was no other way for it. "It just literally took control and squeezed me dry."

_(Tell me, what is the square root of one million, seven hundred, eighy-four?)_

Jaing looked at his teacher incredulously. "Wha…?" he asked, shaking his head. He made exasperated movements with his hands. "I don't know!"

Vieux turned towards Jean. _(He's normal. Get up. The blood won't all rush to your head.) _He held out a clawed hand, and Jaing took it. Once again, he was surprised at Vieux's strength. He was able to lift up his entire nineteen-year-old body up in the air with a twitch of one of his four fingers—he had lost at least one on each hand in a freak demolitions accident that he was reluctant to talk about.

"Thanks," Jaing said. He leaned against the wall, and noticed with a sinking feeling Jean did not turn to him. He glanced at Vieux. "What's she--?"

"I found something," she said suddenly. Her eyes were closed tight with concentration. "It's all dark like before, and something's pulling me in. Link up or I'll end up like Jaing."

_(It is good you can catch the warning signs,)_ Vieux praised. He lay a hand on Jean's shoulder, and his own reptilian eyes closed. Jaing lingered for a moment, hesitating at the prospect of going back. Finally, he braced himself and touched Vieux's forearm.

Reaching out to the Force, he located each of the spiraling tendrils of energy that emitted from both Force Users, and joined the link. Vieux was noticeable stronger than the rest of them. He managed to drift the energies closer together until they melded like a chorus of singers. Jaing was once again accompanied by the sensation of losing himself in darkness. Jean's energy was thrusting outward like a spear, jabbing in random directions. Vieux radiated outward, searching in every way possible, and Jaing followed suit.

Finally, Jean joined them after fruitless searching, and they came to the part Jaing had been sucked in at. Through an unspoken agreement, they went in deeper, with Jaing unconsciously throwing up shields around his mind. He felt a sharp pang in his temple from Vieux, and realized he wanted him to lower those barriers.

Jaing tried, but the expectancy of drowning in the Force was too big, and finally he had to slink back while Jean and Vieux continued to look for something no _normal _person could see. He continued prodding around other areas of Bonnie White's subconscious, unsure of what he was looking for.

Her energy seemed… repressed, as if someone had forced her energy scale back twice. Jaing felt curiosity arise, and poked a bit more, struggling to find the force pushing her back.

He was quite thoroughly freaked out when she grabbed his mind and brought it farther into her own, deeper than Jaing had ever gone, deeper than he meant…

He stood face-to-face with Healer Bonnie White, dressed in a comfortable-looking white smock, enclosed in a dark room where the only light shined on them both. Her eyes were small and menacing, telling him she _wouldn't_ go out without a fight. He held up both hands, stepping back. "Hey, it's okay, Miss White," he said, trying to let calming energies of persuasion trickle from his mouth. Devin had done it plenty of times, but Jaing was too thoroughly freaked out to do it right.

"Did you bring him?" she shot out.

"Who?" Jaing asked.

"Vieux!" Bonnie snapped. "Did you bring Vieux _here?_"

Trying to ignore the fact he didn't know what _here_ was, Jaing nodded. "He's somewhere else, now. We think there's another person connected to your mind right now, and he and my friend went to check it out."

Bonnie shook her head. Her sharp, menacing eyes had suddenly went sad with grief. "He can't," she said. "He'll kill them both if they get within two millimeters! I tried, I tried…" Her voice went softer as she rambled on. "I tried, but he was too powerful!"

"What was too powerful?" Jaing asked urgently. "White?!"

She shook her head helplessly. "I don't know," she said simply. "All I did was try to figure out what happened to Ghez, and I found this dark spot within his brain. It pulled me out and I couldn't escape. I was drowning, losing air… It felt like hot knives being stuck into my chest." She groaned at the memory.

"What happened?" Jaing asked harshly. "You _have_ to tell me!" She looked at him, dazed, as if she wasn't sure if he was here or not. "You're in a coma in the Enclave! You've got wires sticking down your throat! Please!"

She closed her eyes and weaved on her feet. "Feel like many years, many years…" she said softly. When she opened her eyes, they were a defeated color of blue. "I don't know what he is… He's like Vieux… He's like Vieux…" She placed a wicked arm on his shoulder, which dug tightly into the blade, making him ache. "He knows you're here…" she whispered. "Do as I say! Find Rogan Strife… he'll know everything… He's related to Ghez, he's related to the one killing me—" She moaned and clutched her head.

Jaing stood there, frozen in fear. "Hey," he said shakily, "are you okay? Um, ma'am?"

"Get out of here!" she screeched, and she sounded like a little, tormented girl. "He's coming! Get my message back to Vieux, and don't contact me ever again!"

"How do I get out?" he yelled, glancing around him.

"Run into the dark!" she replied.

He turned around and sprinted for the shadows. Before he felt himself returning to reality, he turned, and saw a bright flash of light, and heard a monster roar.

--

Jean slinked back to reality unwillingly. A tremor in the Force had disrupted both her and Vieux's concentration, and their own danger senses kicked in, warning them of impending danger. With the tremor, the other creature had grown stronger, and Jean had to withdraw or risk ending up in a worse that than the old lady on the table. She squinted her eyes in the bright light, and rolled her shoulders back. "Master?" she asked.

She turned on the spot, eyes going wide with shock. Vieux wasn't in the room, and Jaing sat down near the wall. His face was pale, with a sickly shade of green tint coloring it. He looked ready to throw up, but Jean was at his side in seconds, using her index and thumb to open his eyes and check them out.

He looked up at her, as if roused from a dream. She noticed with a sinking feeling that the whites around his eyes were red—not Chiss red, but bloodshot and… afraid. When he met her eyes, Jaing seemed to compose himself somewhat. It was as if a band around his brain had been broken, and Jean felt a whole new awareness creeping inside of him. "Hey," he said softly, looking at her dizzily, but looking at her, at least.

"Hey," she replied in an even softer voice that wavered with the fright she had experienced.

"I'm back?" His hand reached out to stroke her cheek. "Yeah," he said, nodding to himself, confirming something she knew nothing about. He withdrew his hand. "Help me stand up, would you? You guys need to know a few things."

"I don't know where Vieux went," she muttered, and grasped his arm. She was about to pull him up when she noticed that his hands were shaking slightly. Swallowing, she hefted him up, and made sure he didn't fall back down.

"Another room," he said. "I don't want to be in here… with her."

Jean bit her lip and glanced at Bonnie White, who lay pale and peaceful on the medical slab. "Um… alright," she said. "Hey, Jaing, are you _sure_ you're okay? You scared me."

He continued walking towards the door, and pushed it open. "I'm not fine," he said slowly, turning to face her. "You won't believe what I saw, Jean. I'm serious."

--

Jaing told her everything in the adjoining room. When he finished, she stood from her cross-legged position and started to pace. Jaing watched her bite her lip and unconsciously twirl her fingers around a piece of leather cord before pulling her hair into a loose, sloppy bun behind her head. Jaing knew it was a nervous habit of hers, to fidget, but they wouldn't have any of that, now.

"Somebody like Vieux," Jaing said impatiently, drumming his fingers on the floor. "She might mean someone of his species… Kalanese, right?" Vieux had never been mysterious of his kind.

"Has to be," Jean said. She tapped her foot and ran a hand through her dark red hair, tangling it up even more. She made a frustrated noise. "This is _way_ too confusing!"

"You're younger than me," Jaing pointed out. "It's supposed to be confusing at _your_ age…"

She rounded on him. "Excuse me?! I'm seventeen! I've been on loads more missions than _you _have ever been on, Ghetto, so shut up." She turned around, but Jaing's gentle prodding had caused her to open up.

"What we need to know is what happened to the merc, first of all," he said, counting off of his fingers. "Find out where Vieux went, find Rogan Strife, find Evlyn and Devin, and get the hell off of this planet."

Jean snorted. "Undercover, you mean?" she asked. She paused for a moment, considering. "Could work, but Vieux is pretty noticeable. A Kalanese isn't hard to point out."

"Synth-flesh works wonders," Jaing pointed out.

"No way," she said, shaking her head. She rubbed her temples, and Jaing could relate: his head felt ready to explode. "Well, let's list our priorities: we need to get the news to Vieux, Evvie, and Dev, first. Then we find Rogan Strife, and cross that bridge when it comes."

Jaing nodded in affirmation. "Sounds great," he said. He stood, and placed an arm around the small of Jean's back. "We'll get 'em, Jean, you just wait."

"Jaing?" Jean asked softly.

"Yeah?" he whispered back playfully. He leaned in farther, hoping for one of those 'womanly admissions' when she danced around him and pressed her back to the wall. He noticed her lightsaber in her hand. A single disturbance of the Force, and the door slid wide open, revealing a large, granite-black, reptilian-like male. He had no mouth, and only two snake-like slits for a nose. Purple eyes were lowered in his direction, and three diagonal scars crossed his neck, close to one of the white horns that grew near where a normal human's jaw would be. Jaing's mouth opened wide. "Master?"

Jean's muscles relaxed, and she hooked her lightsaber back to her belt. "You were eavesdropping," she stated plainly. "Why?"

Vieux shrugged indifferently. _(I learned what I needed to know. Come: Evlyn and Jedi Master Sanji Taban will be expecting their breakfast. I promised to bring them their meals while they research.)_

Jaing was still unsettled by Vieux's surprising entrance. "Why'd you do that?" he demanded.

Vieux's eyes flashed in his direction. _(As subtle as a flying vibroblade. Now. Come.)_

When he turned and started walking down the tall, narrow halls, Jean hastened to catch up, leaving a grumbling Jaing to quicken his pace. "Master, we need to know more about your species," she began. "Anybody you know who has a grudge against Jedi? Anything that would promote a motive?"

Purple smoke hissed out of his snake nose. Vieux's small eyes closed as he walked. Jaing knew something was up. _(The Kalanese of old bear no liking for Jedi. I was outvoted, and outgunned. A Kalanese Grand Master must have ticked them off. That is the only motive I can think of.)_

"You were _exiled?_" Jaing asked incredulously. "But—"

"Why were you exiled? For being a Jedi? For having the Force?" Jean asked.

_(I have told you a motive. Do not ask for more: I have none. I have spoken to the mercenary. I find no other.)_

Jaing glared at Vieux, but didn't challenge him. _You're hiding something._ He steeled himself to find out exactly what.

--

The halls were turned onto a brighter light, directing the throng of students towards the turbolifts. Devin moved elusively through the huge amount of Jedi Padawans, apprentices, and instructors. Class having been dismissed an hour early, Devin felt he knew why. A small bell was ringing in the invisible speakers, telling them one thing:

_Get to the auditorium or Vieux will kick your scrawny little Jedi butts._

At least, Devin normally thought that. There were at least fifty students per instructor—the Enclave was a big place—and it seemed every single one was in that hallway. Devin was one of the older Padawans, with more experience than others. He quickly hastened to use this to his advantage to spot the easiest way through the crowd.

"Nell, Jos, wait up!" a familiar voice called from behind him. He twisted around to see Auron, surprisingly well-rested considering what happened the other night. She passed him, accidentally elbowing him as she moved farther ahead to join up with a group of kids about her age. Their leader, a large Zabrak, scoffed at her appearance. "How'd you like that essay Rostori assigned us?"

The Zabrak—Jos—laughed. "Why are you talking to us?" his friend asked frankly. "You're lame, lady. Too much time sniffing crack on Nar Shaadaa, I'll bet." He leaned in and put an arm around her, whispering something in her ear that made Auron stop dead.

"How do you know that?" she asked coldly.

The boy shrugged. Devin quickened his pace to listen in. "We have our sources, slave girl," Jos said. He glared at her. "Don't even have the guts to stand up for yourself. Pathetic excuse for a Jedi if I ever seen one."

Auron, surprisingly, didn't look very angry. "I guess I should expect something like that from dimwitted boys with the IQ results of a dead snail. Too busy playing with your makeup? Your punches felt like you were throwing paper."

"I could beat you any time, any place!" Jos snapped.

"Sure, tell that to yourself when you go to sleep. Maybe you'll wake up one day and believe it." Auron gave them one more nice, polite smile, and ambled off.

Devin didn't bother to cover his snort as he came up behind the group. "That attitude is going to make you black-and-blue," he said off-handedly. "That was immature, and I doubt that throwing you all from this height would knock sense into you. I think I'll just tell Vieux how pretty you look today. Jos—you're Jos, right?—that is a _beautiful _shade of mascara!"

Arriving at the turbolifts, Devin finally quit the audacious laughter, reduced to a chuckle, and boarded with a Selkath. The doors closed, and Devin felt himself descending at a rapid speed. The Selkath Padawan beside him looked at him with a form of amusement. Deciding it wouldn't be most prudent to tell an older peer how he managed to 'burn' a twelve-year-old, Devin kept silent.

"_You are Vieux's new Padawan,_" the Selkath stated, looking at him through one eye, which, for a Selkath, was a humorous stare. "_What is he like?_"

"The most crazy-ass instructor you'll ever have," he said. "Sort of arrogant, and loves to torture his young Padawans." He grinned.

The Selkath shuddered. "_I'd take Master White over Vieux any day._"

He didn't bother to mention Miss Bonnie White was currently comatose in the Med Wing. A small moment of silence endured before he turned and stuck out his hand. "Hey, I'm Dev," he said.

The Selkath looked at it for a moment before smiling. A wet, slobbery fin rested within his palm for a moment, then withdrew. "_I am Junni Royal. I just transferred here from the Enclave on my homeworld, Manaan._"

Devin nodded. "Great place," he said casually. "Lots of water."

The Selkath made a chuckling sound deep within her throat. "_We have our own Jedi Training Centers underwater. It was made since this Enclave took in the Force Sensitive from Kaspir. There was an overpopulation, and Jedi Master Jemayah called upon the funds to build the sanctum. I have returned to help._"

"But the attack only happened last night," Devin blurted. "How could you…?"

"_I woke up one morning and decided that no matter how crowded this place is, it needs more help than its' inhabitants can provide._" Now it was Junni's turn to stare at Devin. "_What attack?_"

Devin cleared his throat. "You'll hear about it at the announcement," he said. "I don't know exactly what old VeeVee's going to say, and even I don't know the real story. You'll have to ask Padawan Anek or Ghetto for answers, but Jaing got hit on the head, so I doubt he'll remember how to spell 'dirt-crate.'"

Junni smiled. "_Dirt-crate,_" she said. "_I think I like that word. Mind if I steal it from you?_"

Devin laughed. "Go ahead. I got tons."

"_Human's surprise me sometimes._"

"Yeah? Me, too," Devin said. The Turbolift stopped and the doors slid open. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing.

Junni's mouth tilted upwards in a smile, and she walked out gracefully, with Devin behind her. The halls, for once, were lighted up like landing lights, leading the way to the auditorium. The crowd was beginning to thin, and Devin had the distinct suspicion that he'd be arriving later than the others. He didn't see anyone he knew walking that way, besides Junni and a large Wookie he presumed to be Razaan. They turned a corner and arrived in the large room, one of the only ones that gave you a view of the outside. A large orange dome encircled them, giving off small heat waves that felt comfortable on his skin.

The place was large for a reason. Many had jumped up to higher ancloves to listen. Devin spied Jaing one of the lower ones. He couldn't see Jean or Evlyn, and almost reached out to the Force to find them. Junni was lost in the sea of warriors. Somebody tapped his shoulder, and Devin turned to see the face of Jean, and behind her, Evlyn. Though he couldn't hear Jean through all the noise, he could lip-read easily enough: _We have a lead on Strife and his snaky little friend._ She pointed towards the large podium slowly rising, and Devin turned his attention to the speaker, Vieux. The other Council Members sat on high protruding seating areas mirroring the height of the Grand Master's.

Vieux raised his hands, and the room fell silent almost immediately. _(I have very distressing news.)_

--

Sanji Taban and Hann sat on one of the seats, consulting with a comlink. As Vieux made his little speech, Hann had keyed in his friend's number. The Cerean at Republic Intelligence, Irving, answered in a bored tone. "Irving Stato, head of Republic Intel, soon-to-be famous Broadway actor in the Galaxy. What do you need?"

"Irving, it's me," Hann said gruffly.

"Me, _who?_" Irving answered. They heard a yawn over the listening end.

"Me, Hann. Jedi Master. Personally saved your wrinkled Cerean ass more than a couple of times in the last ten years."

"Hann!" The Cerean's tone changed dramatically. "So glad you called! Listen, there's a few deadbeats over on Tattooine who need some tough love. I know you can do it, baby!"

"I'm not looking for more assignments," Hann snapped. "I need answers, and keep this between us."

"Certainly."

Hann gave Sanji the comlink. "Somebody has tried to blow up the Enclave," she said tersely, as usual, blunt as a sledgehammer. "Two of our Padawans stopped him in time. He goes by the name of Ghez. We found out he's working for Rogan Strife. We have a small lead: Leela Landyn. Can you find her for us?"

"_Leela Landyn?!_ You're right on time, Taban! I just filed a report that had her name in it! Lemme bring it up real quick…" There was the faint sound of typing in the background. "Hey, Chipolté! You have that file on Leela Landyn? Yeah? Bring it over here, our Jedi friend's waitin'." There was a small fumble on the line as Irving was handed a folder. "Lemme see here, let me see… Ah, yes, Leela Landyn, female Lorridan, and look! On Master Vieux's hit-list. Oh, how lovely for her."

"Yes, yes," an impatient Sanji growled, tapping her foot. "Where was she last seen?"

"Keep your horns on, little lady," Irving said. There was a brief amount of silence as he flipped through pages. Sanji only feigned anger most of the time. Irving was one of her best friends, and Hann's. "Got it, got it… Well, what do you know, eh? Last seen was about three years ago. On Corellia. Says here she pulled a bounty on one of the important stiff guys in their government. Jedi team assigned to catch her, but she disappeared in one of those new, black Deltas. Better than those old Stealth-X's you guys use, I'll bet. Big black market trade. Illegal in most Republican planets and—"

"I suppose you know this all from experience?" Hann asked. He cocked an eyebrow at Sanji.

"I might," Irving answered. "So there you go: Corellia. And since you're going to ask me about Strife, I just got through finishing his file before you called. Talravin, right after Vieux's little, erm… _fiasco_ on Harrun Kal. He was seen in a pizza shop. You know about Moon River? _The_ best pizza place in the galaxy. I went there once when I didn't have wrinkles and—"

"Is this one important?" Sanji asked, rolling her eyes. Irving had the annoying tendency to tell them a long personal story when they found something interesting. He claimed it kept them on their toes.

"Of course! I made friends with the chef, horn girl. He called me and told me as soon as he saw them. Before we got local police there, Chef was dead and Strife was, guess what? Mysteriously _missing._ Ain't that some shit?"

"Yeah," Sanji said distantly. "It sure is…"

"Anyways, I'll put all the interplanetary guys on red alert. If somebody's bold enough to even try and destroy the Enclave, I'll do whatever it takes to find them. Cross my hearts and addle my brain I will!"

"Thanks, Irving," Hann said. "I'll be sure to repay the favor."

"Happy Hours at the Outlander starts in five minutes."

"Not today, though," Hann said. "Sorry. Maybe when I fly in."

"Yeah, you can get 'em half price! Just wave your little fingers and it's right there in front of you! And nobody notices a thing—"

"_Goodbye,_ Irving."

"All right, then. If you need anything, I'm right here."

"I know," Hann said, smiling a little. Sanji had known for a long time that Irving rarely left his office. A little favor like this for them would probably have massive impacts on his schedule right now. "I'll make sure to get you that drink. Bye."

"Buh-bye."

The line closed, and Sanji rubbed her temples. "Corellia and Talravin…" she muttered. She bowed her head, deep in thought. She wished she had listened to Evlyn an hour ago about checking out the place.

--

Elsewhere, only fifty lightyears away, Ramm carried his bound-and-gagged test subject into the sealed room. "Down you go," he groaned, throwing the dead weight onto the floor. He ripped off the tape covering his mouth, and the ties binding his arms (not his legs, you see). He took out a small capsule and held it under Rogan Strife's 'gift'. The large man's eyes opened, still groggy. "What the f—"

"Easy does it," Ramm said. "You'll be just fine. You're in a hospital, and our staff is taking good care of you. You'll be fine."

The man's looked at him through half-closed eyes, but relented. Ramm felt bad about lying, but he had to do this: he had no other choice. He closed the door behind him, leaving the man lying on the tiled floor. The airtight pressure locks sealed, and Ramm crossed to a terminal behind the viewing screen. Making sure the session was being recorded, he typed in a command, and almost immediately the room began to blur.

With the toxin being released, Ramm watched.

He knew it was working right as soon as the man screamed.


	12. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**COROTIS MINE, APATROS 2 DAYS AFTER STRIFE MAKES DEAL**

Night on Apatros covered the town like a blanket, where the only lighting was brought by the soft glow emitting by a floating streetlamp that, unlike the others, had not been caught in any recent firefights. Beyond the town—if it could even be called that—was the entrance into the old corotis mines. It was undoubtedly closed, but nobody had cared enough to put up a sign after the last one had been destroyed in the previous hurricane. Therefore, it wasn't really restricted, but those who entered carried a death wish.

The entrance was built into the rock, just an ordinary door where the miners entered and exited through. A form, barely outlined in the black night, approached the entrance and pulled on handles. Nothing moved. He was locked out. Rogan pounded on the door. "Open up!" he yelled hoarsely. After three more seconds, he pounded again, causing some dust to fall from the upper ledge. "Hey! Wake up!"

Fussing could be heard from the thin doors, telling him, in very accurate details, where to shove his karking attitude. Rogan gave the door one more swift pound, and waited for a few more seconds while the lock slid back and the door opened, revealing Ramm, dressed in nothing but some heavy-duty pants that covered his feet, and a long lab coat. Transparent goggles hung around his neck, and bags were under his eyes. The old scientist squinted into the darkness, trying to make him out. Cursing, he fumbled for something on the wall, and the lights turned on inside, revealing a long hall carved out of the mountain rock. Doors that bridged off to different sections of Ramm's lab decorated the side. The old man looked tilted his head back to look at him indignantly. "Do you know what time it is?" he grumped.

"Past one," Rogan said off-handedly. "Just the right time for me to fit you into my schedule."

Ramm glared at him. "This better be good, Strife," he said in a dangerously low voice. "I need to sleep, god dammit."

"It will be, it will be," Rogan said, placating the man's nerves for now. He realized he'd have to be careful, because his own Force abilities weren't up to the Kalanese levels—not yet, anyway—and he had to keep the old man happy until he got his purchase. "Care to let in a pirate?"

Ramm looked at him with a mixture of distaste and queasiness. "Fine," he spat. "Come in, and bolt the door."

"_Thank_ you," Rogan said pleasantly. As he entered, he slammed the door behind him, and took special, deliberate care when replacing the locks Ramm had taken off to let him in. He smiled cheerfully at Ramm, and said, "Politeness counts for everything."

Ramm flinched at his gaze, and turned away. "Of course, of course," he said rapidly. "You know if you wanted some sort of time range, you could have called. It's in the dead of night, for Force's sake!"

Rogan shrugged indifferently. "I didn't want to disturb you," he said innocently.

"Well, you're disturbing me _now_," Ramm snapped. He turned and pointed half-heartedly to a door on the right. "Nearest to the exit, just in case the thing gets out of hand."

"How did my gift work out?" Rogan inquired as Ramm typed in the access code into an ancient-looking durmaplast panel beside the doors. "Any complications?"

"Leave it up to you to filch somebody off of the streets," Ramm muttered. "Yeah, he's working out alright. Dead now, though. Started frothing at the mouth during the third test and went into cardiac arrest. The third proved to be a massive stimulant, and I'm not sure how Jedi would take it." He looked quizzedly at Rogan. "You _are_ after the Jedi, correct?"

"That's my secret," Rogan said, amused. "But, yes, I am. What's the estimated time for the toxin to be ready?"

"By the way this is going?" Ramm opened the door and gestured inside, where many vials, beakers, test tubes and paper cluttered the spacious room. Rogan's eyebrows were dangerously close to disappearing into his hairline. He whistled. Ramm laughed. "You might think that I'm nearly done, but I'm not. Now that I know what you're aiming against, you just pushed whole schedule back two more months. It's hard work, Strife… six months and a lifetime supply of caffa."

Rogan was sincerely dismayed. He showed no outward signs of emotion, but already gears were clicking in his brain. The merc wouldn't stay quiet for long: the Jedi would have him talking faster than you could look at an Ewok and say 'cute.' They'd be looking for him, if they weren't already. They'd start looking for the easiest means to get to him.

He tried to think. What got to him? A lot of things, but they'd have to procure a bait to draw him out of hiding. He wasn't a Jedi, and didn't care much about other people's lives. He felt bad about killing, but it was his job. He needed the money to survive. Possible the only people he would try and rescue would be Leela and Ramm. The latter because he was producing what the Kalanese told him to procure, and the former for…

Rogan liked Leela a lot. It would only be logical they would go after _her_, first, under false pretenses that it's time to 'bring her to justice.' Word would get out, and he'd know by the end of the hour that she had been captured by the heroic Jedi Grand Master Vieux! He tasted metal. They wouldn't try to get Ramm at all, since Rogan only came within talking distance the other night. So it had to be Leela, then.

An urge to go and check on her overtook him, and he almost turned on the spot and left right then. "Alright," he said, nodding, "But on a good day how fast could you go?"

"I wouldn't know," Ramm said blandly. "For another mil I could work faster. And another mil and I'll have it packaged and sent with flowers and kisses."

Rogan didn't care much about price: he was rich. Leader of the HawkBats had its quirks. He even got a little Force Sensitive bodyguard who he had grown a liking to. He heard the men talk when they were off about how things ran more smoothly under him, Rogan. The Rogue. Rogan the Rogue. He almost smirked at the childlike name he had given himself, no matter how true it was. He _did_ smirk at Ramm's offer. "Do you think I'm _made_ of money?" he asked.

"I did some research on you," Ramm sneered, taking a seat at one of his many lab stations. "Don't play me for a fool, Strife. I could turn you in as easily as _that!_" He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

"You'd be a dead man," Rogan said, letting his hand rest casually on his blaster to show that he was _indeed_ serious. "I can give you two mil, but if you ask for any more I'll keep all the money and _make_ you do it." He did the little act of inspecting a fingernail, pausing enough for effect. "You used to be a leading scientist, isn't that right? Rammrod Cormak, Leading Scientist in the Study of Pathogens, Toxins, and Biology. Don't think I don't know everything about _you._"

Ramm was silent. Rogan let his meaning sink in before continuing. "Anyway, Vieux deserves to take a little fall from grace, don't you think? He's the poster boy for the Republic and the Jedi, always surrounded by the media, and the parents around the galaxy reprimand their own children by using their little walking lizard as an icon. The galaxy _loves_ him, and VeeVee knows it. He's over-confident, with a whole population of Jedi at his back."

Rogan crossed over to Ramm and placed each hand on the sides of his chair, leaning in so the scientist could the mad, almost feral gleam in his eyes. "I'm doing the Jedi a _favor_," he hissed. "This power is going to his head. After I did him in on Harrun Kal, did he ever show his face to the media again? No, not until he blasted my buddy's brains out on Tepheron. Then he's back on top because he killed my first mate. Everyone goes on and on about him, and the Jedi don't even see it. I didn't join their little ranks for a reason, and one reason alone: their _leader._"

Ramm's eyes searched Rogan's face, and he noticed his jaw start to tighten up in suppressed anger. "They wouldn't take you anyway," he spat.

"So _what?_" Rogan hissed. "I _have_ a lightsaber. It proves Vieux isn't as all-powerful as he seems! Ever since Harrun Kal, he's been too embarrassed to think straight! He's going to look for me personally, I swear it."

"Then why kill the rest of the Jedi?" Ramm inquired. "Some of them have the right idea."

Rogan took his hands back off of the chair and started pacing the room, managing to get some of his anger under control. He stopped and looked at his left arm—it was shaking. "Vieux twisted their minds," he muttered fiercely. "If I kill their precious Grand Master, what do you think will happen, eh? They'll all come after _me._ I need a back-up weapon, and you're the only one who can give me one."

A small pause followed. "I think the smells in here are getting to you," Ramm said shakily. "Leave and let me make your little _poison_, but don't ever ask me for anything else!"

Rogan scowled. "Remember what I said: two mil. I expect that toxin done in six months, no later… Or I'll find other ways to motivate you." He nodded formally. "Good night."

"Hey, wait!" Ramm yelled, calling after him. "I'll try hard to meet that deadline, but it's real hard to locate the midichlorians. I'll need you to get me another guinea pig with enough midi's I can replicate to figure things out. It'll move a lot faster without Republic Intel breathing on my neck. Some idiot in the Senate decided to pass a law that study midis would be classified as illegal med research, and I don't think there's bail for that, kid."

Rogan nodded to himself, letting out a breath of air that was his nonverbal, _Oh great. _"Yeah, yeah, expect one in the mail today or tomorrow. You gonna kill this one?" Rogan only asked, not out of the welfare for the 'guinea pig', but because there were plenty in the HawkBats who had a high enough midichlorian count to be considered at least half a Jedi, and he didn't want some wacky old scientist messing up his reputation with the others.

"No, I don't think so. Just get me about a liter of blood and it'll do," Ramm said thoughtfully. "No mixing the blood types either… Hey, is Vieux B positive?"

"How should I know?" Rogan half-turned to glare at the old scientist, who chuckled to himself. "I'll get you the blood. Can't promise you a type, but I'll get it."

"Good… Bye."

--

Rogan trudged to the cantina Leela owned, hit with a need to make sure she was still safe. He had already decided to assign his own personal bodyguard, Zia, a shapeshifting Gurlannin, to guard her and make sure she would be safe. Gurlannin were traditionally marble-black, but had a small degree of telepathy, and Force Users wouldn't be able to sense them until it was too late. She would be the perfect asset, and could watch over Ramm while he was away.

It was just as well he had Zia's undying loyalty. He'd hate it if she was his enemy. He smirked as he considered putting her on Vieux. What a funny sight that would be.

As he approached, he was surprised not to see any lights on. _Surely_ she must have waited for him… He knew it had been a long time since they had laid eyes on each other—a year—but that didn't mean she had to close down the place so _early._ Curious, he tried the doors, even more surprised that they were locked. His fingers brushed a cardboard sign, and he frowned, taking out his glowstick and holding it up to the door, washing it with orange light.

_Closed_

_Hours: 7AM-10PM_

Rogan sighed, and decided to approach her in seven hours. It was long, but he didn't feel like she was going to die in the next seventy-eight hours, and left it at that. He walked back to his rented hotel room, weary to the bone. He slipped in his card, opened the door, and turned on a small light. The room was small and smelled like cooked Rancor, but for once Rogan didn't mind the atmosphere. There was a small, ancient television set, a side table with a phone, and a bed.

Rogan liked things simple. He didn't flaunt on like Vieux about spending every credit on lavish little surroundings—he held himself to higher standards than that—and reveled in it. He took a small transmitter and sent a coded burst to his second-in-command over on Nar Shaadaa, where his little friends were hiding out and gathering supplies. Rumor got to him that the firearms specialist, Khonvor, was getting friendly with a pretty Mando gal he met in the Refugee Sector, and he couldn't wait to see the potential crewwoman. Mandos were hard, especially the woman.

_Don't worry, guys, I'll be home soon._

He hated being away from his HawkBats. They were his family. He had adopted them. Or, better to say, they had adopted him. Thinking of the HawkBats brought an ache to his chest. He wasn't all-sentimental or anything, but he hated being away. He wanted to get back _soon._ It was the only place that felt like reality to him now these days, besides Leela. Between the Kalanese shifting his backside and grumpy old men with access to highly dangerous and stomach-turning chemicals, Rogan felt like somebody had put him in a box, shook him around, and expected him to find his way home.

How had he even gotten into this mess, anyway? It had to have started at least a year and a half ago. Vieux had been chasing him around the galaxy—as usual—and had boarded a ship he had thought he was on. Rogan had later found out he killed all the good men and woman on that one HawkBat ship, and had been sent into a rage. After that… he didn't really remember. But something happened, and he couldn't jump out of it and run.

He didn't trust those stinkin' Kalanese, anyway. They were too high-and-mighty for him, always having to be the boss of everything, If he didn't deliver, they'd kill him, or worse. They'd burn the HawkBats alive, and Leela…

And he couldn't let that happen, either. Vieux would be looking for him, too. He'd have a whole string of his little Jedi hounds running around for him. Rogan hated him, but he _loved_ thinking two steps ahead of him.

Leela needed a protector, and so did Ramm. Zia would have been the perfect choice, but she was his own bodyguard, not theirs. Zia was totally loyal to him. He really didn't know when she had pledged herself to him, but he could always trust her on just about any assignment. She was fast, loyal, stealthily—he had yet met a Gurlannin that _wasn't_—and totally focused on her job. If trouble started to rear it's ugly face, Zia would be there for them both.

And besides, he could go without her for a while, anyways. He wasn't helpless, and both he and his crew knew how to stay out of sight.

Rogan got into bed and turned off the light, smiling into the darkness. _You going to get your ass over here soon, Zia. Just not tonight._

He went to sleep dreaming of smoky test tubes and shape shifting lizards.

--

The landing pad was quiet. Most had stayed in bed because o the frigid cold of the morning, but Leela stood where she knew Rogan would be, pink-faced from the chilly wind, expecting snow to start falling, even though she knew it never would. _Where are you Rogue?_

She had closed for the day just to be with him and talk, but he hadn't showed. She glanced at her chrono and let out a hiss of breath that immediately fogged the air. It was 9AM already, for Force's sake! She lifted both legs and bent them so they wouldn't become stiffened by the cold, and rubbed her arms. Her entire face felt numb from standing out in the cold for over an hour, and she was almost tempted to go buy some cigarettes just to warm herself up.

_I know we haven't talked for a while, Rogue, but I need to see you… You scared me the other night… Are you so busy that you can't even come and say hi once and a while?_

He couldn't have been _that_ busy. So what if he had business with that mad scientist that basically lived next to the cantina? It wasn't her place to know, anyway. She never asked too many awkward questions. He should know that by now.

She was just about to go when she saw a black head emerge from the local inn. _So that's where you're staying._ "Rogan!" she yelled, jogging towards him. The figure turned and smiled at her, waiting politely for her to catch up.

She smacked him with all of her might. "You didn't even call," she snapped, her words as icy as the wind that tore through whatever clothes she was using for insulation. "I know this isn't exactly a cultural hub, but gee, it wouldn't take much to look up my number."

Rogan winced and held up his hands in mock defense. "Calm down, Lee," he said soothingly. "You know you didn't have to wait for me."

"Friends wait for each other," she said. "Friends _worry_ about each other."

"You know better than to worry for me," he said softly. "Come on, I was just about to go find you. I have some hot chocolate at my place if you want some." He smiled suggestively at her. "We can drink up, and… catch up on old times, maybe?"

"Is that all yout hink about?" she asked. "I was worried _sick_ for you, Rogue. You come in, start a fight in my bar, and disappear for _two kriffing days! _I thought you left, but your ship was still here, and you weren't on it."

"You make a habit of breaking into people ships?"

"I'd break into the Supreme Chancellor's quarters for you, Rogue. You really had me scared."

Rogan just sighed, and moved a bit closer to her. To any outsider, it might have look like they were bullying each other, not talking about interpersonal relashionships. "I'd never leave without telling you," he said. "When I do—and I will, it's inevitable—I'll leave one of my friends here to make sure you know that I'm alright." He cracked a smile. "I have to keep you sweet for information, don't I? You're an artist among computer hacking."

"Flattery doesn't work on me, but keep going if you feel you must."

He chuckled. "Fiery as ever," he muttered. "Now, how about this: You come into my room, and we… discuss a few things…?"

She gave him a halfhearted grimace. "Well, if we _have_ to…"

"It's a small room with a TV, room service, _and_ double bed…"

"You caught me on room service." She smirked. "Breakfast in bed, maybe, with a lot of holovids and popcorn…"

"I can make it happen." Rogan smiled knowingly at her, cleared his throat, and asked in his most official voice, "So, madame, would you like the lights on or off?"

She giggled. "Sexist _bastard…_"

--

**JEDI COUNCIL ROOM, OSSUS 2 DAYS AFTER STRIFE MAKES DEAL**

"… and I am formally requesting that both Evlyn and I go to Phaeda to track her down."

Jemayah frowned at her colleague. "Why not Talravin?" she inquired. "We're looking for Rogan Strife, not an ex-girlfriend."

"We think he only went to Talravin to throw us off," Evlyn answered. "It's only reasonable, even though Boyfriend isn't."

The Council Room was deathly quiet. Both Sanji and Evlyn stood in the middle of the assembled Masters. Jean, Devin, and Jaing stood clustered together near the doorway, while Auron was on the opposite side, chipping away at a fingernail in false indifference. Evlyn counted the twelve chairs, noticing for once how many Masters had died in the past two years. Now, only Hann, Jemayah, Lu Ten, Sanji, and Vieux were left, and Sanji didn't count as a Council Member now.

Only four seats were filled. Four out of twelve. At least a _third_ of what the assembled strength should be. It gave her a hollow feeling to look at the scene, and set her jaw defiantly without realizing she was doing it.

"Strife is a handful," Jemayah said. She glanced at Vieux with a knowing look. "Isn't he?"

Vieux nodded. "He may be a handful," Sanji said quickly, "but I know the finer points of persuasion and stealth, unlike my colleague. Padawan Evlyn also has skills we'll need. We are the perfect choices for this assignment, Masters."

_(You think you are. Have you examined all angles?)_

"Yes," Sanji stated. "We _will_ find Landyn. She'll lead us right to him."

"You plan to use her as bait?" Hann asked. "Sanji, do you realize he killed seven of our best?"

"I used to be a bounty hunter," Sanji said. "I can get a feel for my target and locate him anywhere. If Miss Landyn's intel is correct, then we'll both find him."

"How do you know he won't just barge in and kill you?"

"He won't get the chance," Evlyn said firmly. "I'm being practical, Masters. Master Taban has had some Republic Intel friends of hers set up a safehouse."

There was a small silence.

"If we confine you here, you still go?" Lu Ten asked Sanji in his scaly, reptilian voice. "You were part of Old Guard… even then you did not follow rules."

"If you were to send somebody else based on the intelligence we had dug up, I would be personally insulted." Sanji had an impassive look she reserved just for annoying insects. The way she had said it, without any hint of emotion or hardness, seemed to say instead: _Make me, lizard._

Evlyn marveled at how the look worked on Lu Ten, and ducked her head to hide a smirk. Auron hadn't stop picking dirt out of her fingernails, but Evlyn heard a small giggle coming from her direction. Lu Ten leaned back in his chair, silent. "I don't agree with this," Hann said. "No matter what, I'm not sending two unprotected Jedi to find someone who's probably already fifteen steps ahead of us. He got away from Vieux so easily—"

Evlyn felt a flash of anger flare up inside of her. There was a sharp _crack!_ sound, and everyone turned to the source of the disturbance. Auron looked into Hann's eyes, pressing her knuckles hard into her thigh to escape some sort of pain. It didn't take a genius to work out she had punched the wall in frustration. "With all do respect, _Masters_," she said calmly, "neither Vieux _or_ Rogan Strife are omnipotent. If you stay here all day wondering what you want for lunch, you're not going to eat. Some thing goes for tracking. If you disagree, then send Jaing or one of the others to _accompany_ them."

She held all of their gazes for a moment, obviously not afraid of the two Jedi Masters who looked ready to kill. Vieux and Jemayah merely looked amused at her daring. Evlyn was, too.

_They're going to kill you and bury you, Auron. I hope you know _what_ you're doing… Don't press it._

Evlyn bit her lip hard, staring at the Council members, then at Auron. The staring contest between them lasted a good minute before Sanji broke in. "That's enough," she said softly. Evlyn glanced to the tall Zabrack next to her, and silently thanked her for ending the tension. "Auron's right about all she said. Maybe a little _blunt_," Sanji flashed her a prideful smile, "but she's the only one who has tried to make a point to you all in a long time. Jedi aren't omnipotent. I know _I'm_ not. Our numbers have gone from twelve to five in less than five years, and you've kept telling yourselves you were too _busy_ to make up the Old Guard again. Once she becomes a Jedi Knight, Auron Kae would make a great choice."

Evlyn saw Auron's questioning look, and Evlyn felt it, too. What was the Old Guard, anyway?

"This isn't a matter for Padawans to hear," Jemayah said firmly.

_(Auron would make a good choice…)_ Vieux's eyes flashed in Sanji's direction, looking at her with such intensity that Evlyn was sure she would flinch and avert her gaze. _(You trust your feelings.)_

Not a question. A statement. A fact.

"I do," Sanji replied calmly, and Evlyn wondered whether they had some secret whispered conversation in their head. Vieux could do it, so why couldn't she? She dismissed the thought: Vieux couldn't read minds.

Could he?

_(Then take my approval.)_

"Master, you can't be serious—"

Hann was really starting to get on her last nerve, and she willed herself not to cry out in frustration or impatience. Instead, she went through a mental checklist. _Ships are upstairs, I can pack in ten minutes tops, die my hair in twenty… Jean has a change of civilian clothes in her locker, maybe I can borrow that…_

_(Do you doubt me?)_ Vieux's voice was eerily quiet, and Evlyn felt a twinge of nervousness enter her chest. She shifted feet slightly, and her hand automatically started edging towards her lightsaber. Auron had stiffened. All three Padawans next to the door had gone completely still, muting their whispered conversation.

"No," Hann muttered, and slunk back into his chair, silent and sulking.

"What if something goes wrong?" Jean asked. "This is Auron's first mission—"

"Oh, so you think I'm helpless, do you?" Auron snapped. "Who gives a credit how old I am? I can _do_ this mission, Jean. I don't want to be babied." She gave Jean one last resentful glance and bowed her head to continue cleaning her nails. She muttered something under her breath that Evlyn decided she didn't need to hear.

"I'm just…" Jean visibly struggled to find the right words. "I'm just concerned about their safety, is all. We can't expend so many Council members at once, can we? It'd be no more than a training mission. It wouldn't teach Auron anything."

"I think it would," Sanji said in a dangerously quiet voice.

Jean shrugged, made the 'hey-it's-your-choice-not-mine' gesture, and discreetly scratched her nose. Devin looked a bit uneasy, but Jaing seemed to be enjoying the standoff. "So… we can go?" Evlyn asked. _Have a small backpack upstairs. Gotta dump out the books…_

Vieux and Jemayah nodded solemnly. Lu Ten merely grunted, while Hann pointedly looked out the window.

Jean's voice drifted up again. "Talravin," she said. "When are we leaving, Master?" She glanced at Vieux, hoping for an answer.

_(Jaing and I will be going to Talravin,)_ Vieux replied calmly. _(You and Padawan Devin will return to normal duties, and be ready to leave in an instant if anything goes wrong. Devin, please make sure the lower Padawans and apprentices know what to do if anything bad happens.)_

Evlyn felt bad for Jean, who had just let her back thump against the wall in dismay. She looked ready to speak up, and Evlyn hoped she didn't. _I'll just get some clothes from Tiana instead…_ Jean's shoulders tensed up, as if waiting for some more orders. When none came, she resumed her normal, easygoing pose, a bit more subdued than before.

"Padawans, please leave the room and let us talk to Master Taban alone." Hann glanced around, noticing that they hadn't moved. "You heard me, thin out!"

Evlyn bit her lip hard, bowed respectfully to both Vieux and Jemayah, and turned on one heel to walk out behind Jean and Auron. A deep anger coursed through them, even though they appeared as natural as ever. Something had shifted between them all in the Council Room. Even though they had only known each other for a short time, Evlyn knew Auron felt the same way Jean felt, for all the wrong reason.

It had to be a question of trust.

"C'mon, Aur, we have to start packing," Evlyn mumbled, scratching the back of her head just to do something. "Hey, guys? We'll see you soon. _Soon_, Jean, so don't get all pouty on me."

"I'm not getting pouty," Jean said with a grin that didn't meet her eyes. "Anyhow, you guys go ahead and get your stuff done. Don't let me keep you waiting."

Auron nodded. "May the Force be with you," she said, and left them without another word.

Jaing blew out a breath. "Is it just me, or does she have some serious social displacement issues?"

"Lay off, man," Devin said, giving Jaing a playful punch in the shoulder. "You better get ready for your mission. I think it'll be _very_ educational…"

Jaing grimaced. "Vieux will probably find Strife and chop him up into some nice _tatshui_…"

Jean made a face. "Gross, Jaing…"

"Well it's true!" Jaing said. They continued at their own pace down the corridors, minus Auron. "I looked up 'Kalanese', and you know what they do when their dead finally die? They chop off the skin and eat them!"

Evlyn made a face, a bit put-out by the facts.

"I'm dead serious, Evvie. They say they want to feel as some use to their families even after death, so…"

"What's for dessert?" Jean asked.

"Well, I got to go," Evlyn said. She gave them a half-hearted wave before taking a turn towards the turbolifts. "I'll see you guys later! Dinner at Imbraani when I get back!"

"Save up money, Evvie, because I'm going to be _pretty _hungry!"

--

Okay, maybe she should have begged to go. _Anything_ to get out of the Enclave. It felt constricting enough as it was. She wanted to go outside, to _be somewhere._ People thought of her as the person who liked to stay inside all day and tinker with machines and ships.

It _wasn't._

Jean ran a hand through her hair, massaging her scalp with her fingertips as she did it. Jaing had excused himself already to go pack, and Devin even left to go do some meditating. Jean was alone, and the Council didn't trust her to leave the Enclave. What was their deal, anyway? What was this Old Guard crap she heard? Had to be something good, if Auron qualified. Everyone was going to be doing something good in their lives, and she was stuck _here_ walking towards the MedBay for a daily dose of bacta.

Her life _stank._

_I've proved myself, didn't I? Should I have taken some initiative when fighting? Should I have taken him myself? It is because Jaing was wrestling on the floor with him that he's going with Vieux?_

These weren't Jedi-like thoughts, but for once in her life she didn't give a kriffing cred about Jedi. Hann and Lu Ten were _unreasonable_… It was mostly Hann, but it felt just the same. Four was definitely wasn't enough to control the Jedi. They needed twelve again, just like last time. A lot of powerful members with good hearts had been on the original Council. Rogan Strife had managed to track down and kill all seven after the course of several years.

Ironically, those Jedi were sent to capture him.

Maybe it didn't work out that way. One of the dead, Kaya-Tii, was like a trigger-happy private in the Republic Navy. Maybe she showed a bit too much initiative and tried to kill the man. _Assassination._

_That's what we're all amounting up to be, isn't it? Cold-blooded killers. The Jedi are dying, I can feel it. Ever since Mama left, things had been going hectic…_

Maybe… just maybe she could call her father. Vin would know what to do. He was taking a two year sabbatical on Dantooine to get away from the rest of the galaxy. He had asked her to come, but she had stayed. Vieux had talked her into it, anyway. He needed to do it alone.

Well, now _she_ was the one doing things alone. She'd need help from someone who knew how.

A figure turned one of the narrow corners, almost colliding right into her. "Sorry," he mumbled, and tried to ease his way around her.

"It's fine," she said, distracted. As soon as he passed her, she turned to stare at his retreating back, stung with a sense of familiarity.

"Hey!" she yelled. "You're the idiot that sliced my leg open!"


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**(Jedi Temple, Ossus Three days after incident)**

The mercenary turned. "Hello, Anek."

Jean rocked against the wall of the hallway, pushed back by an invisible force. She reached for her lightsaber, but before she could press the activation stud it flew from her hands. It slapped into the mercenary's with a [ithunk.[/i

He looked at the lightsaber for a moment, then casually tossed it over his shoulder. "I'm disappointed," he said. "That's not an appropriate greeting on my homeworld."

Jean cleared her throat. "Of course, sorry. Bad reflex. I normally take it out when somebody pushes me against the wall. I should have made an exemption."

Looking at him now, she knew she shouldn't wince. The mercenary stood before her, a weird gleam in his eye. The same one she had seen in the cafeteria so long ago. His wispy gray-black hair seemed to rustle slightly with an invisible wind. His tone remained curiously friendly, not at all angry. "Where is the Weapon Master?"

"Went off to Bespin to find your master," she lied.

"No. Here. Ossus. Where at?"

"If I tell you, you won't kill me?"

"I won't kill you. I admire your persistence." There was almost a purr to his voice.

"That's comforting." Jean narrowed her eyes slightly, and the mercenary fell backwards. With another mental exertion, she activated the lightsaber he had thrown behind her. It would have run him through had he not moved at the last minute. He collapsed on the ground. She held him there, pushing down as hard as she could.

Suddenly she was released from her invisible hold. She stumbled foreword like a drunk as the pressure was removed. Her momentary lapse in concentration made him break his own chains and scramble to his feet. "Insolent girl!" he bellowed.

Instantly, Jean felt herself being lifted into the air and slammed into the ceiling. She felt the breath knocked out of her, and suddenly gravity reversed, and she slammed towards the floor, head-first. Stars exploded in her head, and she lay there for a moment, unaware if she was alive or not.

"Get up, girl. Fight like a Jedi!"

Jean let out a howl of rage and launched her own Force-propelled attack at him. He slammed into the wall, hard enough to make a chip in the stone, and lay there, unmoving.

She slowly got up to her feet, keeping a weary eye on him.

His hand twitched.

She turned around and ran down the passageway, towards the cross-corridors filled with students just ending their classes. She wouldn't waste her breath on a comlink until she was surrounded by people. She put every effort towards running.

Something seemed to move in her head, as though there were a greased worm wriggling in her brain matter, heading toward the exit of one of her ears. She ignored the sensation. She ran.

The first corridor was ahead, lightly trafficked by small Padawans who didn't yet notice her. She turned rightward into it, towards heavier concentrations of Padawans. Her rapid movements didn't attract attention; a lot of people were running, playing tag or hide 'n seek before the next meal. Even a large giant like her wouldn't disrupt the children from their game. A few moments later she was in a crowd of Jedi Knights and their Padawans, streaming out of a room where the Bonding lessons took place.

She pulled out her ocmlink. _Now_ she could…

She could what?

Call someone, she supposed. But who? And why did she need to call anyone? What had she been jogging for?

And where had she lost her blasted lightsaber? Maybe she had dropped it in the throng of Padawans. _That_ would be just perfect, a great ending to her day.

Putting away her comlink, she turned around and began searching for her lightsaber, looking through the Force for its' distinctive pulse. When she finally found it, in one of the deserted corridors, she noticed a crack in the granite wall. Part of the artificial light shown though.

_Wonder what happened there…_

--

The fight had drained Ghez, both physically and mentally. He limped down the halls, keeping to the ones where there were no observers. His head throbbed painfully where it had struck the hard wall. He was surprised the girl had managed to get so far away before he had come to his senses and erased her memories. It had been a test for himself, and to see the girl's own fighting abilities. N all honesty, he had thought of her as the weaker of the two Padawans he had the pleasure of fighting, but now…

This girl was clearly the stronger. Even without the strange, mysterious power that had boosted his own during that last fight, he could feel that she would play an important role in events to come. She had been able to break his grasp. To knock him senseless.

That power, he sensed, had come from something that was at once part of her, and part of something greater. Like a second person living within her, directing her actions.

Troubled, Ghez continued to his new assigned quarters. With his last reserves of strength, he slowly but steadily healed the large gash on his forehead, leaving nothing but a small, white scar where the granite had pierced it.

--

Evlyn's room was small and modest, with a small desk, a sleep-couch, a HoloBroadcaster, and bookshelves stuffed with books from a few science-fiction and fantasy series. There was a large granite table that seemed to be growing out of the ground between the couch and HoloBroadcaster. Evlyn stood behind it, placing a few extra clothes into her bag. She glanced up as Auron entered. A smile broke out across her face. "I thought you got lost," she said, chuckling.

Auron shrugged. "I don't take the turbolifts," she said. "Too packed."

Evlyn raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. Auron noticed she had already changed out of her simple jerkin and into a loose-fitting purple T-shirt with a picture of flowers on it that could have been a tattoo. She had her hair in multiple braids that seemed to stick to her hair, like a darker-skinned person would do. Auron could see makeup on her face, and could very clearly see the earrings in her ears.

"Where are you going to hide your lightsaber?" Auron asked, giving Evlyn another skeptical gaze. "With those tight pants I bet you cant stick a credcard in there without everybody knowing."

Evlyn smiled. "I'll bring a purse with me."

"A purse." Auron looked at Evlyn incredulously. "You have… a purse? You're Vieux's Padawan and you have a _purse?_"

Evlyn nodded. "I'm a bit more girly than you or Jean." She shrugged. "Sorry."

Auron just shook her head and dumped her bag on the floor. "Master Taban said you have some clothes that might fit me." Auron hoped that she didn't. Digging something out of the other clothing units would suffice enough. _And the only reason I haven't done that is because I'm supposed to stay with you and be a good little girl,_ she thought bitterly. "I'm a medium. Size sixteen. Whatever."

Evlyn nodded. "Yeah, Sanji told me. And you'll have to call her by her first name, now. She's our parent's best friend and she's watching over us until our parents sort out their differences and pick us up."

Something inside of her revolted against being sisters with Evlyn, but she nodded anyway. Evlyn showed her to a closet and told her to pick out whatever she wanted. When Evlyn went over finish neatly putting things into her bag, Auron muttered, "Force save me," and covered it with a sneeze. She picked out a dirt-brown shirt that clung to her body, and few more plain ones, and some jeans. Evlyn seemed to have raided the Jedi Civilian Closet herself. There were tons of things in there that didn't even _fit_ her.

Auron took her selection back over towards her bag and stuffed it in without folding them up. She caught Evlyn giving her back a Look, but ignored it for now. "Do you have a hairbrush and toothpaste?" came the next question from Miss Priss.

"I have the hairbrush."

"What about shoes? Or are you going out in your travel boots?"

"Let's say I'm the tomboy of the two." Auron took out a dark blue shirt and a pair of flared jeans. "I'm going to go change."

"Alright."

--

On the speeder ride to Imbraani spaceport, Auron sat in the back. Sanji and Evlyn were up front, chatting excitingly about the mission. Auron held her bag close to her and stared out the window, back at the Jedi Enclave. You could barely see it against the mountain unless you knew what you were looking for. They drove over a field of wheat grains, careful not to damage them.

Sanji turned her head to glance back at Auron once or twice. They were already miles away, and getting farther. Auron felt a pit of nervousness in her stomach.

_My first mission. With a Council Member._

_This is… crazy._

Auron still couldn't believe it. She was too used to computers, RPing on the internet with her friends, talking on forums. She never told anyone but two how old she was, and _what_ she was. She shared her own drama at the Enclave with them, and she was sure they doubted her, at least a little bit. She didn't know what their reactions would be if she told them she was going on her first mission. They were only used to her brief periods of absence so she could study.

If it's a bigger absence, will they realize what is happening?

Missions are classified information. She wanted to tell them so much. The only thing she could force out was that she was sorry, and to please watch over the RPs and the site until she got back.

They seemed to understand. They had accepted the fact.

Why could she herself accept it?

For twelve years she had waited to be sent on a mission. Twelve years of bravado. Twelve years of teasing. There was an entire galaxy out there, and she wanted to _explore _it! To _feel_ the currents of the Force around her. And she had the chance, right here and now.

_What if I fail?_

The prospect of failing made a dark imprint in her mind. _I won't. I won't._

Maybe, if she kept telling herself this, she won't. Maybe she won't. Maybe.

"You're awfully quiet back there, Auron," said Sanji. "Are you tired?"

"Nah. Just thinking how hard it must've been to carve out the Enclave." The lie was hollow, and she knew it. In the reflection of the window, she saw Sanji flick a glance at Evlyn. The knot of nervousness in her stomach grew. It was one of those things you wished you hadn't seen, or noticed. "How much farther until we reach Imbraani?"

"About half an hour," Evlyn said. "I hope you brought a book or two."

"Yeah… I borrowed one of yours, by the way."

"Which one?"

"_Knights of the Old Republic I and II._ It should help me with my old History classes. We don't learn much about Revan anymore. Just the recent history." Auron could see the cover of the two-part series in her mind's eye. She really wanted to start reading it, but she knew she'd have to start while she was on the ship towards their first stop, Jacinto. Otherwise, she's finish the first one before they set down for landing about an hour later. "Have you learned about Revan, Ma—Sanji?"

The dark-skinned Zabrack nodded gravely. "He was a very powerful man," she said. "Only through his actions did the Jedi survive."

Auron made a noncommittal sound. "I guess…"

"You have a question?" Evlyn asked. "I've read that thing cover-to-cover and over again."

"Tell me about Mission Vao," she said. She loved to hear about the blue Twi'lek and her Wookie companion. "I know that after Revan destroyed the Star Forge she became an ambassador. Nothing else, though."

"From what I know, she quit her job and went back to Kashyyk to take care of Jolee Bindo. By the time of the second novel, he had shown signs of kidney cancer and a whole lot of problems. It progressed too far, and after he died she went back to Dantooine to help in the reconstructing. She died later on in the Crystal Cave. They call it Mission's Cave is remembrance to her."

"She didn't have any kids?"

Evlyn shrugged. "If she did, they're lost now. Not everybody cares about bloodlines anymore."

"Some people still do," Sanji said severely. "Jedi, for instance."

"If we were Luke Skywalker's descendants, would you know?" Auron asked. "I mean, seriously."

"Of course we would. We have every initiate's family tree in the database. Most of them are sons and daughters of Jedi Masters."

Suddenly, the speeder went silent. Auron could see the set of Sanji's jaw, and knew she was miffed. Evlyn was sinking deep into a book called _Invincible_ by Troy Denning, an author from Naboo. The cover showed a female Jedi with a bright lightsaber blade fighting a Sith. It had to be a Sith, anyway. His lightsaber was red and his hood obscured his face.

Auron sighed through her nose and rummaged through her bag for her datapad. Time to see if there were any new posts in the RP.

She was in the middle of the part where Jedi Knight Nell Lamboda and Private Carlos Mathers engaged in a firefight with the Locust Horde when they arrived into the city. Auron typed in a quick "g2g and bbl" message before shutting it off and stowing it in her bag.

--

_Like most of the galaxy's sentient species, Kalanese had a torso, two legs, two arms, and one head. They bear much resemblance to Humans, and are often called Humanoid. Their heads had two eyes, one slitted nose for breathing and smelling (which also released a pungent odor in the air when the Kalanese is stressed. Purple or blue steam is usually seen coming out), but no mouth. Instead, two great tusks curve where the jawbone should be. Kalanese arms had four-clawed hands for manipulation, mirrored by their legs' three-toed feet. Also, like most species, they came in two sexes, male and female. Their skin came in varying shades of black, green, and even yellows and blues. They were made of hard scale which can take a hit from an artillery blast with minor damage._

_Despite overall physiological uniformity, baseline Kalanese varied greatly in appearance. Their face shapes were largely different, and many were smaller or larger than the normal, average height. Their eyes came in shades of blue, green, gray, purple, yellow, or brown. In their culture, purple eyes were deemed as bad luck, while gray eyes were killed. Their skins tones varied greatly._

_Not much is known about the Kalanese history, only that their home planet is somewhere beyond the reaches of the Galaxy. They first appeared in the Yuuzhan Vong war, and have since not allowed further research be done upon them. The most famous Kalanese to this day is Jedi Grand Master Vieux. _

Jaing leaned back in his seat, frowning. With a click of a button, he ordered the computer to give him a printout of the information and various examples of Kalanese diversity. It would have to do. He folded the papers and tucked them into his pants pocket. Having already changed and packed for the journey, he could spend his free time doing something more productive. He quickly typed in the Galaxy Wide database and clicked on YouTube.

For the next thirty minutes, sounds of loud hegsae rock music filled the deserted computer room. When Vieux came to collect him, however, the music was nothing but a simple classical version of the renowned musician Roland E. Krate's 18th Symphony, the Grand Master's favorite, and his faithful Padawan was doing research on Rogan Strife using the universal databases. It looked like Jaing had been doing something a boy his age _should_ be.

The freshly-printed flimsy-sheets in his pockets told otherwise.

--

Notes: Sorry for the R/L mentions in there. _Invincible_ is actually a book by Troy Denning. _Knights of the Old Republic _is a video game series. Auron Kae actually does RP and post on forums much like some of us. YouTube is the best video-hosting site on the 'net. :P And I own none of those.


	14. Chapter 13

_The weapon is firing at ninety-five percent efficiency, my lord. The engineers are still working on it, but we are hopeful that it will reach beyond three-hundred by the end of next season._

_Good. What about the Jedi?_

_The Jedi is working just as planned, lord. Though we may have to find a new energy source. How many times do you plan on using the weapon?_

_As many times as necessary._

_Then we will need more Jedi. Shall I call in the pirate?_

_Please do._

_--_

**Chapter Thirteen**

**(Three days after Ghez attacks Enclave)**

_**Incinerator, **_**orbiting Nar Shaadaa**

"Fisk!"

Jdu Fisk, first mate to Rogan Strife, turned his head to observe the newcomer. He scowled at the sight of Mammon Hoole, the large, muscular Zabrak that filled up the doorway. "What?" he snapped, glaring at his cousin with his one good eye. Though, he was pretty sure the other one could project the same intensity as the other.

Fisk stood in front of one of the many workbenches on the ship, a large automatic laid on the smooth metal surface decorated with burn marks from the people who had carelessly lay the fusioncutter on its' side while binding up the rest of their gear. Mammon raised his eyebrow ever so slightly at Fisk's weapon of choice, but—thankfully—made no derisive comment. Fisk didn't think he could stomach it if he did. "Strife's on the line. Wants the new code."

"Well give it to him, then," Fisk grumped, turning his back to the overly muscular Zabrak to finish installing the new grip. His shoulder twitched slightly at the prospect of turning his back to his overly-ambitious cousin, even made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He glanced over his shoulder, noticed that he hadn't even moved from his position against the doorframe. "Well?"

"He wants _you_, little cousin. Something top secret, no doubt." Mammon's smirk told all.

"Then get the Gurlaninn to give it to him," he snapped angrily.

Mammon sighed, shaking his head. Chuckles reached Fisk's ears. "Zia's already on a ship to Apatros. Why in the Nine flamin' Hells she's going, I don't know. Connected with Strife no doubt. She was _not_ a happy lady when she talked to him."

"If she _talked_ to him, she would've given him the code."

"Stop being obstinate. You're toy blaster can wait a while, can't it?"

"How about I kick your teeth in?"

Mammon snorted. "Come on, little cousin. Strife's waiting." A shadow crossed his eyes. "I mean it. He was in a pretty agitated mood when he called."

Fisk sighed loudly and wiped his greasy hands on a stained rag before setting it back on the workbench. "Where at?" The serious tone Mammon had given locked his mind against anything else.

"You're to call from your quarters. So no one overhears, of course." The smirk was back. Fisk would bet Strife's lightsaber that Mammon was entertaining the prospects of eavesdropping on his little cousin and Captain. But that was now the least of his worries.

_Kalanese._

The word crossed Fisk's mind before he could blink. He felt himself go pale. "Right." He started out, walking briskly. He slipped past Mammon and jogged down the hall. "And don't you touch my blaster if you value life!"

"Yeah, yeah."

--

Rogan's face appeared over the comm, grim and haggard. "Jdu," he said hoarsely. "We've got another assignment from Kelph." Fisk drew in a large breath of air through his nose.

"Yes?" he asked, tensing up.

"Their project needs more energy resources. You're in the best position right now. I'm on my way over right now, but I need you to go ahead and find some leads. Any word on the street?"

"Uh, yes, yes, hold on." Fisk crossed to his desk and pulled out a sheaf of papers. "Our mole's in Intel seem to have a mind of their own. Vieux and a kid are sent out to Talravin, and another Council Member and two other kids are on Corellia looking for your…" he coughed. "Well, Miss Landyn."

"Intel couldn't have gotten that," Rogan said. "Vieux keeps Council records closed like that."

"We have a fish in the Enclave, Captain. Gift from Kalpha. Selkath Padawan by the name of Juuni. She put a tracer on Devin something-another when they met. He's one of the lizard's apprentices."

"Award her my thanks," said the captain dryly. "I want you to send out some of the Guardians to Corellia. Take the Padawans and the Master if you can. And take out Juuni, put her in the group. It's good for effect."

Fisk nodded. "I'll go see to it personally," he said grimly. "What about you?"

"I will be there in about three days. I want you gone by then. Kalpha needs this _now_."

"Roger. But I have a question." Rogan cocked his head. "Why are we helping Kalpha anyway?"

Rogan's sigh could be heard over the comm. Fisk then knew how stressed out this man must be. "Because I have no choice."

"What about us?" Fisk snapped. "Do _we_ have a choice?"

"Yes," he said matter-of-factly. "You could leave right now if you wanted to. I'll just have to get one of the Medics to wipe your memory before you leave."

"I'm not thinking of leaving," Fisk said bluntly. "But others will once they hear what you're doing."

"You know the current moral of our troops better than me. I love these guys, Jdu. I'll protect them as best I can."

Fisk nodded. "Alright."

"Oh… And tell Coruscant Intel to keep an eye on Irving. I've got a feeling he knows something's up."

"Will do."

"Rogue One out."

The hologram blinked out of existence. Fisk sat down heavily in his desk chair and rubbed his eyes. _You're in over your head, mate._ Fisk let out a small cry of frustration and grabbed his cup of water. His face twisted in anger, and he threw it hard against the wall. The cup was made out of foam, and didn't shatter, but Fisk imagined the tinkling of glass as it hit the tiled floor.

_You could leave right now if you wanted to._

Rogan knew he wouldn't. Everybody knew he wouldn't. Rogan was his best friend, no matter what kind of shit he was knee-deep in. Twenty-five years of his life was given to the HawkBats, he thought glumly. He had lived through three captains who went in over their heads, and they each died the same way. At least Strife was bringing everyone back together. Strife was _legend_, and at such a young age! He was too smart to fall for the Kalanese's word trap. He beat Vieux, didn't he?

Fisk tried to wrap his mind around what he had to do. The Jedi Padawan, Junni, was being controlled by Kalpha—the Kalense—no doubt. No Jedi would willingly go against Vieux, anyway. The damn fish would be spying on them for her lizard mentors. The god-forsaken Force would be their messaging device.

Rogan's grim smile returned to his head. _Jdu, one thing you have to know about Jedi is this: you can't eavesdrop on them._

Ain't _that_ the truth!

Fisk disliked Jedi almost as much as he disliked wampa burgers.

Bad feelings ran deep between the pirates and the Jedi. Most of the Guardians would most likely plot ways of insubordination just to get at the little fishy. "Then I have to go with them…" he said to himself, biting his knuckle. His gaze looked towards the distance. Gears clicked in his head. "_Great_…" If he went with the Guardians, then _Mammon_ would take over. Fisk hated Mammon, and felt a distinct sick feeling at the prospect of leaving the entire operation in his hands even for a day.

_Oh shit…_

He had left Mammon in the room with his most prized blaster rifle.

"Shit!"

--

**(Four days after Ghez attacks Enclave)**

Auron nearly sighed in relief when Evlyn and Sanji left the room. Self-conscious or not, Auron loved being the lone wolf in the pack. The tag of the brown shirt tickled the back of her neck, and she finally did sigh. Reaching behind her, she found the tag and ripped it off, dropping it in the waste dispenser in the corner. She almost went her datapad again to talk to her friends. She finally decided against it, and lay down heavily on the single sleepcouch in their room. With a simple mental exertion, her backpack flew towards her awaiting fingertips.

The feel of the backpack brought a smirk to her lips. Sanji's spot of trouble at Imbraani Spaceport would be something the Padawan knew the lady wouldn't live down lightly.

_The guard looked at her face and frowned. Suddenly, he was reaching for his comlink. "DTI on line seven." He waited for confirmation, nodded once, then shut the thing off. Auron's eyebrows lifted slightly, too subtle to be noticed. "Random Deep Tissue Inspection," he explained._

"_For absolutely no reason," Sanji said. "You should just let me go under the scanner."_

_The man's head bobbed for a moment, then the beginning of a nod. Finally, he caught himself. "No, no. That line over there." He pointed to a much shorter line hidden behind a security screen. "Move it, lady."_

"_Hey, don't treat Aunt Melissa like that!" Auron cried, feigning childhood anger. She brought the Force to bear and unleashed it on the man's mind. For a moment, she wondered why Sanji failed with the mind trick. "You should be apologize for being mean." She crossed her arms, daring the man to refuse._

"_I shouldn't treat your aunt like that," he echoed. "I should apologize for being mean." As he turned to offer his forced apology, Evlyn put a hand on Auron's shoulder and squeezed hard. Auron twisted her head to face her, giving her a quick wink before moving through the scanner._

_Thankfully, the woman behind it was so distracted by some unknown influence that she happened to miss the small _ping!_ Of the lightsaber. Evlyn moved quickly behind, Sanji following in the rear. Auron let out a breath she hadn't known she had been holding and looked up, hopeful for praise. Sanji was shaking her head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "Good work, Padawan," she said, patting Auron on the back. Auron grinned._

Why couldn't Sanji mind trick the guard, though? She wondered about it. She _had_ felt Sanji bring the Force to bear on the man's mind, but something more noticeable was the fact that she seemed to be weaker. Even Evlyn appeared weaker. It was unnerving, something she had felt only during her classes. True, almost nobody could match her in a battle of will and the Force, much less fighting, but at least the Masters would be better… trained, anyway.

It was indeed something to ask the Zabrak about later on.

Right now, though, was reading time. Most important, it was time to read about Revan and the Exile.

--

"Hey, Junni." Devin winked at the Selkath apprentice he had befriended the day of Viex's announcement. Juuni was dressed in the normal Selkath Padawan wear: an orange, yellow, and black wetsuit. Her lightsaber, decorated with small pearls and etches of seaweed, bounced on her hip at her every motion. The handle, he noted, was made out of a hardened rock.

She was already beginning to get up from the Padawans' lunch table when she recognized the voice. Devin caught her eye and nodded, pointing to an empty table. She took up her tray and approached it, if almost hesitantly, he noticed. He sat down and front of her and grinned. "How's it going?" he asked, sticking a piece of baked dru'un slices in his mouth. The warm, honeyed pink fruit slice leaked unimaginably good flavor, and he swallowed, quickly picking up another piece.

"_It is going fine_," she replied. "_I have been called on for my Trials._" Her mouth twisted in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "_The Council wishes me to go to Corellia and oversee the elections._"

"That's _great!_" he said with faked enthusiasm. "Wish Vieux would let _me_ take the Trials. You have any tips?"

Her eyes flashed with incredulous light. "_Tips?_" she repeated.

"Yeah," he said slowly. "I need help with the fourteenth movement form. You guys learn it before us on Manann, don't you?"

Juuni shook her head. "Out curriculum has been… jumbled. The Kath Hounds are attacking us outside, so we cannot connect with nature anymore."

_But she was on Manann… Manann's full of water and firaxa sharks, not Kath Hounds._

His curious expression must have shown, because he felt a flicker in the Force, almost a fear. "_Did I say that I've trained on other worlds besides my homeworld?"_

"No…" Devin said, keeping a frown from showing. "Which planets?"

"_Cal'kraknos and Foghat would be two I'd name._"

Devin didn't even bother to say that those two worlds were in the Unknown Regions. Something was wrong, that much he could tell. He reached out to the Force and started to scan Juuni's mind to get a hint at where she was going at. Juuni's sudden response nearly made him faint, she pressed so hard. Pain erupted in his head like firecrackers. "You're like the merc," he gasped, jolting bolts of realization hitting him as profoundly as the pain.

He didn't know if those exact words came out or not, because the cafeteria was descending into blackness. He could hear another voice in his mind, like Vieux's, but deeper, rougher…

_(You cannot leave the body there, Juuni,)_ the voice chided. _(Put him into a coma… Good girl. We'll just say he fainted.)_

Now Juuni's voice. _"Master, do you really think the Jedi will buy it?"_

_(They will buy anything under _his _rule. But we've lost time. Leave quietly.)_

"_Yes, Master._"

Dev could feel Juuni getting up, the pressure removed from his head. The darkness seemed to recede, and dull pain returned to his limbs. His head throbbed painfully, and he could feel a wet honey-covered fruit slice slide down his face and onto the floor…

Floor. His eyes snapped open. The first thing he noticed was the concerned face of Master Hahn in front of his own. Devin's heart nearly jumped when he remembered about the Selkath. "Where Juuni?" he asked hoarsly.

"Juuni?" Hahn asked. "Come on, boy, get up, we're going to the bed bay."

"No, I'm serious! I didn't hit my head, I swear! She's the apprentice transferred from the Manann academy."

"That academy was relocated to Taris years ago," Hahn replied calmly. "Look, Devin, you're obviously hurt. Let me take you—"

"No!" Devin's voice cut into the air like a whip. The surrounding apprentices widened their eyes slightly at his daring attitude. "She's in league with the Kalanese! Master, listen to me!"

"Are you implying Vieux knows what happened to the Enclave three days ago?"

"_No!_ Listen, where's Jean?"

A small boy of about seven stepped foreword. "Uh, I saw her near the med bay. The Chiss was patching her up." Even an idiot like Devin could tell the boy was lying to help the Master.

Devin nodded slightly, out of breath. He shook on shaky knees. "Master Hahn, you have to believe me. Juuni's going to Corellia."

Hahn's face paled slightly, but he did not relent. "You think that I will allow you to go to Corellia? Or sanction an investigation? No, Devin, Vieux has forbid any investigations into the terrorist matter without consulting him."

"Then _consult _him! I'll go and rescue the others while you two _talk_ over _tatshui_ _and tea!_"

"That is _it!_" Hahn thundered. "You are coming with me!" He tried to grab Devin's arm, but the younger man slipped backwards. "Come here, Padawan."

"No, I won't. I know what I saw!" He glanced into the crowd of Padawans who watched him. He could see a few Knights hurrying their way to see what was going on. Devin was drawing quite a crowd. He pleaded the others to understand. "If we don't catch her, she'll try and kill Master Taban and the others! You three! You were at her lunch table! You _saw_ the Selkath!" He pointed to a trio of older Padawans in their twenties.

One of the women shook her head. "There was no Selkath at the table, Devin."

"There _was!_" he cried. He looked in the crowd, trying to find a sympathizing face. His eyes suddenly locked on those of Ghez Hoken in the back row. A smile crinkled his eyes. He winked. _Go with him_, he mouthed.

Hahn moved foreword and grabbed Devin's arm, this time holding on tight enough to stop the circulation. "You're coming with me."

Devin offered no resisistence, though he had no reason as to why he was trusting the mercenary. As Hahn led Devin through the crowd of Knights and Padawans, Ghez Hokan followed at a safe distance. When Hahn led him into a deserted hallway just adjacent of the Medical Bay did Devin realize what the merc was doing. He appeared at Hahn's shoulder and put a hand on his head. Hahn twisted around at the touch, but soon every angry look was replaced by one of confusion. "How did I get here?" he asked.

Devin, quick thinking as ever, sighed and shook his head slightly. "Come on, Master. The Healers will straighten you out."

He looked behind Hahn's shoulder. Ghez was gone.

Hahn scowled. "Why am I going there?"

"You fell and hit your head in sparring, Master, remember?" he asked with the patience of one who was talking to a child. "Halfway here you were acting pretty dazed, but I guess it's a good sign you're talking. I must have hit you softer than what I first thought."

Hahn gingerly lifted a hand to his face, while Devin took his upper arm and gently guided him down the halls. His fingers tensed up as if expecting a bruise, and Hahn's expression became even more confused. "You healed it?"

"Slightly," Devin lied. "At least the knot's gone, though. Can you get to the MedBay by yourself now? It's a left turn from here."

"Yeah… sure. Thanks."

"And if Jean's in there, send her out, will you?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Padawan."

When Hahn ambled off, Devin leaned against the marble wall. "You can come out now, merc," he said. He lifted a forearm to wipe some sweat beaded on his brow. Ghez appeared next to him, wearing a fiber-optic stealth belt. He smirked. Devin just shook his head. "I didn't know you were Force Sensitive."

"My family had been able to wipe memories for a long time, Jedi-boy. And before you ask, yes, I believe you."

"I _saw_ her," Devim muttered. "She sat right in front of me."

"No, a Force-projected phantom sat right in front of you," Ghez said sternly. "Now get up. We're going to find your friend and get to Corellia."

"Then who is projecting the phantom?" Devin asked, but he obliged by matching the merc's fast pace. "The Kalanese?"

"_Exactly_," Ghez said. "I remember it all now, thanks to your little episode in the cafeteria. I was once like that… sharing a mind with one of the High Priests…" Ghez shivered at the thought. "It is a claustrophobic feeling. In fear that the Preist would find me and examine what I know, I've written down each of my days in a journal before wiping my own mind. You would do good to do the same."

Devin shook his head grimly. "What about Vieux? He's part of… _their lot_, isn't he?"

"Vieux was exiled and banished for loving a female of a renegade tribe," Ghez said tightly. "Don't ask how I know. I just _do_. And by the way, I've wiped the minds of your little friends in the cafeteria, too. Though if I pass out from overexertion, at least of the sense of mind to put me on the ship with you. Where's your friend?"

Devin reached out to the Force as they walked. Jean's familiar Force signature was about three levels below them, near the ships. She brushed his mind, humming with anxiety. She had felt his sudden emotions and intent, and already had a ship ready. When he told this to Ghez, he merely looked bemused and said what a wonderful Force Bond they both shared. Devin's face grew red.

--

The ship Jean had picked out was Sanji Taban's personal one. It looked like a modified, bulkier version of a Chiss clawcraft, gleaming silver and blue. It was longer, allowing two simple quarters (complete with foolproof locks for prisoners), a small kitchen area combined with the smallest Main Hold—also the armory—in ship history. There was no MedBay. Devin felt a glimmer of apprehension in the pit of his stomach, but dismissed it. Master Taban would be _thanking_ them for stealing her ship, he just knew it.

Jean had managed a quick change of clothing—now she wore bulky mechanic's clothing—and had found a closet of clothes in the armory that would fit both Devin and Ghez. When she saw the mercenary come up the ramp, she just nodded as if she expected it. "Can't keep this man out of our lives now, can we?" was her only comment.

She sat at the pilot's seat and direct the mercenary to go check the cabins for food. Transferring her flight codes to the deck-duty Padawans, and fired her thrusters and slowly brought the small craft out of the large hanger. The shields over the opening closed once again, however, before she could even get out.

Devin pursed his lips, knew what was coming. "Hokan, get over here!" he yelled, right before the comm crackled to life.

"Master Sanji Taban left on a mission earlier yesterday,_"_ said an adscolent voice. _"_And she didn't leave instructions that anybody could use her ship. Identify yourself, please._"_

Ghez entered the cockpit and quickly crossed to the comm. He glanced at Jean, and she nodded. Devin felt her reach towards to the Force, so strongly that he almost thought she and the mercenary were merging their own energies together. "Padawans, my name is Ghez Hokan." His voice was soothing, almost hyptnotizing. "Now listen to me… You never saw this ship leave, understand?"

"I'm calling the… No, we never saw your ship."

"And you'll disable the security cameras."

"And we'll disable the security cameras."

"Thank you for your cooperation. We will leave now."

"You will leave now."

Ghez let go of the comm button. He flashed an daring smile at Jean, something that looked totally different on his face. "You did good, kid. I don't think I can wipe any more memories today."

Devin was at a loss. "You mind tricked them?" he asked Jean. She gave him a halfhearted nod. "Since when were you able the do it to five people at a time?"

"Never mind that," she said, angling the ship out of the hanger and into the upper atmosphere. "What's going on and why are we breaking fifty rules?"

Devin told her.

--

The first flaw in the story the Jean noted was the phantom. "How can you be melded with the mind of another but be a phantom at the same time?" she asked Ghez. "How do you know so much?"

"I was once part of a Force-Sensitive cult on my homeworld, Sorus," he explained. "There we learned many unnatural abilities… such as where I erase one's mind. We learned much about phantoms and splitting, which is what is going on with Juuni. Basically, she's locked inside her own person and being bent to the High Preist's will. When splitting and phantoms are mixed, they give the dominate one many powers. Such as to appear as an illusion. Now, thinking it out, I know that that's what happened. This Juuni was invisible to another's eye. Except ours. We have met her."

"Met her?" Devin echoed.

"You, on the Turbolift. Me… well, her dominate side is what controlled me for a time."

"We should contact Sanji," Jean suggested as soon as she put to hyperspace. "And soon."

"We'll need her number. Only the Council has that," Devin pointed out. He sat on the floor of the cockpit, arms crossed and thinking. "Hokan, if you rest, can you influence Hahn to give up the contact codes."

"My chances are slim even with rest," the large merc replied. "Unlike your Force, mine is taxed by distance."

"Maybe we could somehow contact her with the Force. I've heard of Jedi doing that before," Jean suggested. "Telepathy."

"Not even you can do that, Jean," Devin grumbled.

"How long is it until we reach Corellia?" Ghez asked.

Jean grumbled and checked the readout display. The answer brought another scowl to her face. "About six days. They're already two ahead of us by now. We're pretty slow ship. Hell, even _Vieux and Jaing_ would get to Talravin before we got to Corellia."

"Because Talravin's closer to Ossus," Devin said reasonably. "Let's all just get some sleep. I'll take the first shift."

"Shift?" The mercenary glanced curiously at Devin, waiting for an explanation.

"We don't know most of the ship's kinks yet. One of us will stay up two hours, rest for four. Me first, Jean next, and then I'll come back on with you."

"You still don't trust me," he said grimly.

"No," Jean said. "Not yet." Her reaprochful gaze made the older man fall quiet.

--

The bait was set, dangling on a golden hook. The traitor, the two Jedi, and the three on Corellia would be the best supplies of energy the _Ilu'faurun_ would ever get. Juuni's dominate darker half smiled as she boarded a faster ship waiting for her in the forest. As she passed the Padawan's ship in hyperspace, she realized she would get there the same day Rogan Strife's Guardians landed from Nar Shaadaa.

Excellent.

It was time to put the first steps in motion. Taggerung would be pleased.


End file.
